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midnight-shadow-cafe · 1 day ago

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The Emperor’s Gaze Part 2

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Maid! reader

Warnings: Fluff, smut, Caracella being an ass

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy! I unintentionally made this a series and I love it-

Word Count: 3.8k

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The days following your time in the garden blurred into a strange mix of normalcy and heightened awareness. While you carried out your usual tasks, your mind wandered back to the emperor’s words, his touch, and the way he had looked at you—as though you were the only person in the world who mattered.

The garden had become your sanctuary. He summoned you there often, under the guise of needing someone to help with tasks like arranging flowers or cleaning the statues. Yet, you both knew it was an excuse.

He didn’t just speak to you as an emperor to a servant. He asked about your life—your family, your dreams, your fears. Slowly, your guarded responses began to crack, and you found yourself sharing pieces of yourself that no one else knew.

In turn, he shared fragments of his own life. He spoke of the weight of the crown, the constant fear of betrayal, and the loneliness that came with power. For all his authority, Geta was just a man, burdened by expectations and longing for something real.

But not everyone was blind to your growing connection.

One evening, as you returned to the servants’ quarters after another day spent in his presence, you were cornered by one of the senior maids. She was older, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of your flushed cheeks and the faint smile you hadn’t realized you wore.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, girl,” she hissed, her voice low but cutting.

You blinked, startled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me,” she snapped. “The emperor may have taken a liking to you, but do you think that makes you safe? There are people in this palace who would kill to gain his favor—or to destroy it.”

Her words sent a chill down your spine. You tried to brush past her, but she grabbed your arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

“Whatever he’s promised you, remember this: you’re replaceable. Don’t get too comfortable.”

You yanked your arm free, her words echoing in your mind as you hurried away. That night, sleep eluded you, the weight of her warning pressing heavily on your chest.

The next day, as you worked quietly in the garden, Geta noticed your unease immediately.

“You’re quiet today,” he observed, watching you as you arranged a vase of flowers.

“I’m always quiet,” you replied softly, not meeting his gaze.

“Not like this,” he said, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, debating whether to tell him. But the concern in his eyes, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you—it made it impossible to lie.

“Someone warned me,” you admitted finally, your fingers trembling as they adjusted the flowers. “They said I’m… replaceable. That being near you puts me in danger.”

His expression darkened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. “Who said this to you?”

You shook your head quickly. “It doesn’t matter. They’re right, aren’t they? I don’t belong here, my lord. I don’t belong with you.”

His hand shot out, gently but firmly grabbing yours and stilling your movements. “Y/N, look at me.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your gaze to meet his. His jaw was set, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity.

“No one decides where you belong but you—and me,” he said firmly. “Do you think I’d let anyone harm you?”

“It’s not just about harm,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to be used to hurt you, either. I don’t want to be a weakness for you.”

His grip tightened on your hand, though his touch remained gentle. “You’re not a weakness. You’re a reminder of the man I want to be. And if anyone thinks they can use you against me, they’ll learn how wrong they are.”

You swallowed hard, his words both comforting and terrifying. How could he be so certain? How could he promise to protect you in a palace full of schemers and spies?

Before you could respond, the distant sound of voices reached your ears. Geta’s head snapped up, his expression hardening.

“Come,” he said, pulling you toward a hidden alcove tucked behind a wall of ivy.

You barely had time to protest before a group of noblemen entered the garden, their voices loud and full of laughter. Geta’s grip on your hand remained firm as he pressed you into the shadows, his body shielding yours from view.

“Your Majesty,” one of the men called, scanning the garden. “Are you here?”

Geta sighed quietly, his breath brushing against your temple. “Stay here,” he murmured, his voice low. “Don’t move until I come back.”

You nodded, your heart racing as he stepped out of the alcove, his demeanor shifting instantly to that of the confident, commanding emperor.

“Gentlemen,” he greeted, his tone light but firm. “What brings you here?”

As the noblemen launched into a discussion about some trivial matter, you watched from the shadows, your chest tightening. This was the reality of being close to him—the constant need to hide, to tread carefully around those who might twist your connection into something dangerous.

And yet, as he glanced back at the alcove, his eyes briefly meeting yours, you felt a flicker of hope.

Whatever challenges lay ahead, one thing was clear: you weren’t facing them alone.

——

The next week passed in a tense haze. You tried to stay out of sight, avoiding the prying eyes and whispers that seemed to follow you wherever you went. Despite Geta’s assurances, the warning from the senior maid still lingered in your mind.

But Geta had other plans.

It was a week after the incident in the garden when a grand feast was announced. The palace erupted with activity, servants scurrying to prepare the banquet hall, polish the silverware, and arrange the finest delicacies from across the empire. You were swept up in the preparations, your every moment occupied with tasks, though you couldn’t shake the sense of unease that hung in the air.

The evening of the feast arrived, the palace glowing with the light of a thousand torches. Nobles from across the empire filled the grand hall, their laughter and conversation blending into a cacophony of sound. You stood at the edge of the room, hidden among the other servants, your gaze flickering nervously to the head of the table where Geta sat, his expression calm and composed.

The feast began as expected, with music, dancing, and an endless parade of food and wine. You kept your head down, trying to ignore the way your heart raced every time his gaze drifted in your direction.

And then, as the night wore on and the hall began to quiet, Geta rose from his seat.

The room fell silent instantly, all eyes turning to him. He surveyed the crowd with the air of a man who commanded absolute authority, his expression unreadable.

“My friends,” he began, his voice carrying effortlessly over the hall. “Tonight, we celebrate the strength and unity of our great empire. But I must confess, I have another reason for calling you here.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, curiosity lighting the faces of the assembled nobles. You felt your stomach twist, a sense of foreboding washing over you.

“For too long, this empire has lacked an empress,” Geta continued, his gaze sweeping the room. “A partner who will stand beside me, guide me, and share in the burdens of rule.”

The murmurs grew louder, excitement and speculation buzzing through the crowd. You felt frozen in place, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure everyone could hear it.

“And so, I have made my decision,” Geta said, his voice steady and resolute. “I have chosen my empress.”

The hall fell silent once more, every eye fixed on him. He paused for a moment, letting the tension build before his gaze turned directly to you.

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name seemed to echo in the vast chamber, drawing every head in your direction. You felt the weight of their stares, a mixture of shock, disbelief, and anger radiating from the crowd.

You took a step back, your mind racing. *This can’t be happening.*

“Come forward,” Geta commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you toward him even as your mind screamed at you to stop. The sea of nobles parted as you passed, their whispered words slicing through the air like knives.

When you reached the dais, Geta extended his hand to you, his eyes softening as they met yours. “Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. But then you saw the sincerity in his eyes, the promise of protection and devotion, and you found yourself nodding.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He smiled, a genuine warmth breaking through his composed exterior. Taking your hand, he turned back to the crowd.

“This woman,” he declared, his voice strong and unwavering, “has shown me courage, kindness, and strength unlike any I have ever known. She will be your empress, and you will honor her as you honor me.”

The room erupted into chaos. Some nobles cheered, their voices filled with forced enthusiasm. Others whispered furiously among themselves, their faces dark with outrage. But Geta paid them no mind, his focus entirely on you.

“You’ve just made a lot of enemies,” you murmured, your voice shaking.

“So have they,” he replied, his grip on your hand tightening. “But let them come. I’ll face them all if it means keeping you by my side.”

In that moment, as he stood beside you, his presence a shield against the storm brewing around you, you realized there was no turning back. You were no longer just a maid—you were the chosen empress, a target for intrigue and danger.

But with Geta at your side, you felt a spark of hope. Together, perhaps you could navigate the treacherous waters of the court and forge a future where love and loyalty triumphed over fear.

——

The days following the feast were a whirlwind. The announcement of your elevation to empress had sent shockwaves through the empire. Courtiers whispered behind your back, and the palace was abuzz with speculation. Despite the overwhelming attention, Geta stood firm beside you, his presence both a comfort and a shield.

But not everyone celebrated the news.

Caracalla had been away from the palace on a campaign when the feast took place. His sudden return only days later sent a ripple of unease through the court. Known for his ruthless nature and volatile temper, Caracalla was a man who inspired both fear and respect.

The first time you saw him, you understood why.

He entered the throne room with an air of authority, his dark eyes scanning the room like a predator sizing up its prey. Taller and more imposing than Geta, his presence seemed to suck the air from the room.

Geta stood at your side, his expression carefully neutral as his brother approached.

“So,” Caracalla said, his voice low and sharp, “this is the woman who has bewitched you.”

You stiffened, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. The way he looked at you was unnerving, his gaze cold and calculating.

“She’s my chosen empress,” Geta replied evenly. “And you’ll treat her with respect.”

Caracalla’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “Respect is earned, brother. Not given.”

The tension between them was palpable, the unspoken rivalry hanging thick in the air. You felt like a pawn caught between two kings, each vying for dominance.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Caracalla continued, his eyes flicking back to you. “Bringing her into the palace—it’s a bold move. But boldness doesn’t always equal wisdom.”

“She’s under my protection,” Geta said firmly. “Anyone who threatens her will answer to me.”

Caracalla raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Careful, little brother. Threats like that can come back to haunt you.”

With that, he turned and strode away, his cloak billowing behind him. The room remained silent until he was gone, the tension slowly dissipating like a storm passing.

“Are you all right?” Geta asked, his hand brushing yours.

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. “What does he mean by ‘come back to haunt you’?”

Geta’s jaw tightened. “Caracalla doesn’t approve of anything I do. He sees me as a threat to his power, and now he’ll see you the same way. But don’t worry—I won’t let him hurt you.”

Despite his words, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Caracalla’s return marked the beginning of something dangerous.

---

In the weeks that followed, Caracalla’s presence loomed over the palace like a dark cloud. Though he remained outwardly cordial, his every word and action seemed calculated to sow doubt and discord.

He would make veiled comments in court, questioning your suitability as empress without ever addressing you directly. He lingered in places he wasn’t expected, his sharp gaze always seeming to find you.

One evening, as you walked alone in the gardens, you felt a presence behind you. Turning quickly, you found Caracalla standing there, his expression unreadable.

“You should be careful wandering alone,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with menace.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you replied, though your voice betrayed a hint of unease.

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Brave words for someone so far out of their depth.”

“What do you want?” you asked, your hands clenched at your sides.

“To understand,” he said, stepping closer. “What is it about you that has made my brother so reckless? What spell have you cast over him?”

“I’ve done nothing but be myself,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “If that’s a threat to you, perhaps you should look inward.”

His smile vanished, replaced by a hard, calculating expression. “You’re clever,” he said quietly. “Clever enough to know that your position is precarious. Be careful, little empress. The palace is a dangerous place, and loyalty is a fleeting thing.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

——

The days following your tense encounter with Caracalla passed in a haze of unease. The palace seemed colder with him there, his shadow casting a long, dark presence that crept into every corner. But in the quiet moments, when the court had settled and the whispers died down, Geta found ways to draw you away from the chaos.

He would pull you into hidden alcoves, his hand warm against yours, his touch grounding. Sometimes, he’d bring you to the gardens at night, the moonlight casting silver over his sharp features. In those moments, it felt like the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you.

One evening, after a particularly tense council meeting where Caracalla had all but accused you of manipulating Geta, the emperor found you in your quarters.

You were seated by the window, staring out at the flickering lights of the city below. When he entered, you glanced at him, your expression guarded.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you murmured, though your heart leapt at the sight of him.

“And yet here I am,” he replied, his voice low and steady. He crossed the room, his presence filling the space, and knelt before you, his hands resting on your knees. “You’re worried.”

“Of course, I am,” you admitted. “Your brother… he hates me. He hates that you’ve chosen me. I feel like I’m walking a tightrope, and one wrong step…”

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re not alone in this. I’m with you, every step of the way.”

His words were a balm, but the tension in your chest didn’t ease. “Geta, you’ve made enemies because of me. What if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” he interrupted gently. “You’re my empress. My choice. And I would choose you a thousand times over, no matter the cost.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any hint of doubt. But his gaze was steady, filled with a quiet resolve that stole your breath.

He leaned closer, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” he murmured, his voice a bare whisper.

And then his lips were on yours, soft and warm, a promise in every touch. He kissed you like you were the only thing grounding him, like the rest of the world could fall away and it wouldn’t matter as long as you were by his side.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between you.

“I love you,” he confessed, the words slipping from his lips like a vow. “Not as an emperor. Not as a ruler. Just as a man who’s hopelessly, irrevocably yours.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. “Geta, I—”

“Say it when you’re ready,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

---

Later that night, Geta insisted you join him in his private chambers, away from the prying eyes of the court. The room was warm, the golden glow of the fire casting soft shadows across the walls. He had dismissed his attendants, insisting on pouring wine for the two of you himself.

You sat together on a plush divan, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. The closeness was intoxicating, the weight of his presence a comfort you hadn’t realized you craved.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “Something no one else knows.”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your goblet. “There’s not much to tell. My life before the palace was… ordinary.”

“Ordinary is relative,” he countered. “To me, everything about you is extraordinary.”

His words brought a flush to your cheeks, and you ducked your head to hide your smile. “Fine. When I was a girl, I used to sneak into the fields near my village to watch the stars. I always imagined they were the gods’ way of watching over us.”

Geta tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “And what do you think now?”

You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way he looked at you—as if you were the only thing that mattered. “Now, I think the stars are reminders to find light in the darkness.”

He leaned closer, his hand coming to rest on your cheek. “Then you must be my star,” he murmured. “Because you’ve brought light to my life in ways I never thought possible.”

His lips found yours again, the kiss deeper this time, filled with a longing that left you breathless. You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pulled you closer, his touch igniting a fire that burned away every fear, every doubt.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, your foreheads pressed together as you shared a quiet moment of intimacy.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

You nodded, your heart swelling with a love that felt too big to contain. “Always.”

Geta's hands roam your body as he pushes you down onto the silk sheets, his golden jewelry glinting in the candlelight. He kisses a trail down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "You're mine," he growls, his voice low and possessive. "Mine to claim, mine to protect."

He settles between your legs, his weight pressing you into the mattress. You can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your gown, and you arch up to meet him, desperate for more.

Geta's fingers find the hem of your dress, pushing it up inch by inch until cool air meets your heated skin. He pauses, drinking in the sight of you, his eyes dark with desire.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his hand skimming over your stomach, your ribs, your breasts. "So beautiful."

He leans down, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. "I'm going to worship every inch of you," he promises, his words sending shivers down your spine. "I'm going to make you forget everything but my name."

His mouth trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake. He kisses your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach, until he reaches the apex of your thighs.

Geta looks up at you, his eyes locked with yours as he parts your folds with his fingers. "You're already so wet," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal. "Is this all for me?"

You nod, your breath coming in short gasps as his tongue makes contact with your most sensitive parts. He groans, the sound vibrating against your skin, and he sets about his task with a single-minded determination that leaves you writhing beneath him.

He brings you to the edge again and again, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to drive you higher and higher. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he pulls back, his chest heaving with exertion.

"Not yet," he pants, his voice strained. "I'm not done with you."

He positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick heat. "Tell me you're mine," he demands, his eyes boring into yours. "Tell me you belong to me."

"Yours," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm yours, Geta. All yours."

With a low groan, he thrusts forward, sheathing himself inside you in one smooth stroke. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your back arching off the bed.

Geta sets a punishing pace, his hips snapping against yours with a force that rocks the bed. Each thrust drives him deeper, harder, until the room is filled with the sound of flesh meeting flesh and the creaking of the mattress.

You meet him thrust for thrust, your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The pleasure builds and builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly until it explodes, washing over you in waves of ecstasy.

Geta follows soon after, his body tensing above you as he spills himself inside you with a guttural moan. He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck.

"My star," he murmurs, his voice soft and sated. "My beautiful, perfect star."

You hold him close, your heart swelling with a love that feels like it could burst. In this moment, the rest of the world falls away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms.

It's a perfect moment, a rare glimpse of peace in a world that's constantly at war. And you hold onto it, cherishing it, knowing that it's a gift that can't last forever.

But for now, you're content to stay in Geta's arms, to let the rest of the world fade away. Because here, with him, you're exactly where you belong.

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Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

Tag list: @captainostella

#x reader #emperor geta x y/n #emperor geta x female reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x reader #geta x you #geta x reader #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #emperor geta x reader smut #joseph quinn gladiator #gladiator ll #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator movie #gladiator x reader

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darksturnz · 19 hours ago

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BETWEEN THE CRACKS

CONTENTS:・teeth rotting fluff-heavy plot (again..) ・star!reader ・mild language ・mentions of death/hospitals・artist!chris ・mild language + more WC: 3.6k

slightly a part two to this, and once again, highly recommend you listen to this on repeat as that’s what i did.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, painting faint streaks of gold across the small, cluttered room. Star stirred, her body caught between the pull of sleep and the growing awareness of something unfamiliar. Warmth.

Her eyes fluttered open, her breath catching as she realized she wasn’t alone. Chris’s arm was slung loosely around her waist, his hand resting on the fabric of her shirt like a promise he hadn’t meant to make. His face was inches from hers, his expression uncharacteristically peaceful in sleep, the usual tension smoothed from his features.

For a moment, she froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She’d spent years perfecting the art of keeping people at arm’s length, of never letting anyone close enough to see the cracks beneath the surface— besides madison of course. And yet, here she was, tangled up with Chris Sturniolo of all people—the guarded, gruff boy who never smiled, never laughed, and yet somehow felt safer than anyone she’d ever known.

Her gaze flicked over his face, taking in the faint scar along his jawline, the way his dark lashes rested against his cheekbones. He looked softer like this. Human, even. It was a stark contrast to the sharp edges he usually wore like armor.

She swallowed hard, unsure of what to do. The rational part of her wanted to slip away, to put distance between them before he woke and they had to confront whatever this was. But the softer, quieter part of her—the part she tried so hard to ignore—didn’t want to move.

Her hand rested against his chest, and she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. It was grounding, in a way, and terrifying all at once.

Chris shifted slightly in his sleep, his arm tightening around her for just a moment before his eyes opened.

Star froze again, her breath hitching as his gaze met hers. For a split second, there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a glimpse of something raw and unguarded. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a sort of quiet confusion.

“Morning,” he muttered, his voice rough and low from sleep.

Star blinked, the sound of his voice snapping her out of whatever trance she’d been in. “Morning,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Neither of them moved. The silence between them felt heavy, but not uncomfortable—more like the weight of something unspoken, something fragile.

Chris glanced down at her hand still resting against his chest, his brows furrowing slightly. A faint, almost self-deprecating smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t mean to, uh, hold you captive,” he said, his voice gruff but tinged with awkward humor.

Star felt her cheeks flush, but she didn’t pull away. A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips. “You didn’t,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she meant it to be. “I didn’t mind.”

That quiet admission settled between them like a secret, one neither of them was ready to unpack.

Chris finally shifted, breaking the silence but not the closeness entirely. “m’gonna make coffee,” he muttered, his voice softer now, as if the moment had chipped away some of his usual defenses.

Star stayed where she was, staring up at the ceiling as the sound of his footsteps retreated into the kitchen. Her chest felt tight, her thoughts swirling with feelings she wasn’t ready to name.

This was dangerous. She knew that. Letting someone in, even a little, was a risk she couldn’t afford to take. And yet, as she traced her fingers over the wrinkle in the sheet where Chris had been, she couldn’t help but feel the faintest flicker of something that felt an awful lot like hope.

The coffee maker sputtered weakly, its rhythmic bubbling filling the small trailer as Chris leaned against the counter, staring blankly at the chipped mug in his hand. He wasn’t sure why he’d said what he had back in the room. Didn’t mean to hold you captive. It wasn’t like him to really joke—at least not in a situation like that.

But Star did something to him. Slowly, without permission, she had slipped past all the defenses he’d spent years building. He didn’t know how to navigate it, the strange pull he felt toward her. It was terrifying. Maddening. But when he heard her footsteps padding softly into the kitchen, a part of him—the part he didn’t like to acknowledge—felt calmer.

Star lingered in the doorway, watching him. The faint smile she’d worn earlier had faded, replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful. “You okay?” she asked, her voice soft.

Chris turned his head, meeting her eyes. There was a vulnerability in her question, like she wasn’t just asking about him but testing the waters to see if it was okay for her to stay. He nodded once, setting the mug down. “Yeah. You want some?” He gestured to the coffee maker.

She shook her head. “I’m good.”

The moment stretched between them, warm and unspoken. Chris cleared his throat, turning back to the counter. “Lila should be up soon,” he said, his voice gruff again.

“Right,” Star murmured. She hesitated before stepping closer, leaning against the opposite side of the counter. “Do you think she’ll want pancakes?”

Chris raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “She always wants pancakes.”

Star chuckled softly, and the sound did something to him—something he didn’t have words for.

Lila emerged a little while later, her brown curls a tangled mess and her eyes puffy with sleep. She dragged her blanket behind her like a cape, rubbing at her face as she padded into the kitchen.

“Morning, Bug,” Chris said, his tone softer now.

Lila mumbled something incomprehensible, then perked up when she saw Star standing by the stove. “Star!” she exclaimed, her voice brightening.

Star turned, crouching slightly to meet Lila’s excited gaze. “Morning, Lil.”

Lila giggled, abandoning her blanket to run over and wrap her arms around Star’s legs. “Are you making pancakes?”

Chris smirked from his spot by the counter. “Told you.”

Star rolled her eyes at him before turning her attention back to Lila. “Only if you promise to help me flip them.”

Lila gasped, nodding vigorously. “I’m the best flipper!”

Chris chuckled, the sound low and brief, but it made Star’s chest feel strangely warm. She caught his eye for a moment, and something passed between them—a silent acknowledgment of how natural this felt.

After breakfast, the three of them settled into their usual rhythm. Lila spent time coloring on the living room floor while Chris worked on a sketch at the small table near the window. Star watched them from her spot on the couch, feeling an odd sense of belonging she hadn’t felt in years.

It was Lila who broke the comfortable silence. She climbed into Chris’s lap, her coloring book in hand. “Can we go see Mommy today?” she asked softly, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

Chris set his pencil down, his expression softening. “Yeah, Bug. We can go.”

Lila hesitated, twisting a curl around her finger. “Can Star come too?”

Chris blinked, caught off guard by the request. His eyes flicked to Star, who sat very still, her gaze carefully neutral. He hadn’t expected Lila to ask, and he wasn’t sure if Star would even want to go.

Star hesitated, her stomach twisting. The last time she’d been in a hospital, her mother had died. Just the thought of stepping into those sterile halls again made her chest tighten.

But then Lila turned to her, her wide eyes filled with hope. “Please, Star? Mommy would like you,” she said softly.

Chris didn’t say anything, but he watched Star closely, his brow furrowed as if he was trying to figure her out.

Star exhaled shakily, forcing a small smile. “Yeah,” she said finally. “I’ll come.”

The hospital was as stark and sterile as Star had expected. Every step inside felt heavier than the last, memories pressing down on her chest like a weight she couldn’t shake. She kept her gaze fixed on Lila, who walked ahead with her small hand clasped in Chris’s.

When they reached Evelyn’s room, Star hesitated just outside the door. She could hear the steady hum of machines, the faint murmur of voices, and her heart began to race.

“You okay?” Chris’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts.

She glanced at him, nodding quickly. “Yeah.”

Chris studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before pushing the door open.

Lila ran ahead, her voice bright. “Mommy!”

The woman lying in the bed was pale and frail, her breathing shallow as she smiled weakly at her daughter. Star lingered by the door, unsure of where to stand or what to do.

“Hi, sweet girl,” Evelyn murmured, her voice thin but warm.

Chris crossed the room to stand by her bedside, his hand resting lightly on Lila’s shoulder. He glanced back at Star, his gaze expectant.

Star swallowed hard and stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Hi,” she said softly, her voice trembling just enough for Chris to notice. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Evelyn’s eyes flicked to Chris, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “You must be Star,” she said. “Lila talks about you all the time.”

Star blinked, surprised. “She does?”

Lila nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh! I told Mommy how you make pancakes and how you help me with my drawings.”

Star felt her cheeks flush, but she smiled. “Well, you’re a pretty great artist, Lil.”

Evelyn chuckled softly, the sound weak but genuine. “You’re very sweet,” she said, her eyes lingering on Star for a moment before shifting to Chris.

Chris stayed quiet, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, but his gaze was fixed on Star. He watched the way she interacted with his mom—how gentle and respectful she was, how she seemed to genuinely care. She didn’t notice Chris watching her, but he couldn’t look away. There was something about the way she fit into this moment, into his life, that scared him and comforted him all at once.

Star sat on the edge of the chair near Evelyn’s bedside, her posture tentative but open. She folded her hands tightly in her lap, unsure if she should lean closer or stay where she was. The machines hooked up to Evelyn hummed softly in the background, their rhythmic beeping both comforting and unsettling.

Lila was perched at the foot of the hospital bed, her sketchbook open as she chattered away about her latest masterpiece. Star leaned in to admire it when Lila held it up, a messy swirl of crayons resembling what Lila insisted was a butterfly.

“It’s beautiful,” Star said softly, smiling at the little girl.

“It’s for Mommy,” Lila announced proudly.

Chris shifted by the wall, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You better get it framed, Mom. Bug’s a professional now.”

Evelyn laughed quietly, her gaze flicking from Lila to Chris. “I might just do that,” she murmured. Her voice was tired, but there was something about the way she looked at her son—pride mingled with sadness.

Star could feel it—the heaviness in the air, the weight Chris carried every time he walked into this room. She glanced at him briefly, catching the way his jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides as if he wanted to do more but couldn’t.

After a while, Lila climbed into the chair on Star’s lap, distracted by her coloring book. Evelyn turned her attention to Star, her soft gaze curious but kind.

“So, y/n,” Evelyn began, her voice gentle, “how long have you been putting up with my son?”

Star blinked, caught off guard by the question. She glanced at Chris, who rolled his eyes but didn’t protest.

“Um… a few months now,” Star replied, a small, nervous smile tugging at her lips. “He doesn’t make it too hard.”

Evelyn chuckled, though it quickly turned into a cough. Chris straightened, his brow furrowing as he stepped closer to the bed. “Mom,” he said quietly, his voice edged with concern.

“I’m fine,” Evelyn assured him, waving a weak hand. She turned back to Star, her expression softening. “It’s good he has someone around. Lila talks about you like your family.”

Star froze, her chest tightening. Family. The word felt foreign, like something she couldn’t quite hold onto. She forced a small laugh, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Lila’s easy to love,” she said, her voice quieter now.

Chris caught that—the slight tremor in her voice, the way her eyes shifted down to her hands. He didn’t say anything, but he stayed close, his presence steady even if his words weren’t.

As Star talked with Evelyn, Chris found himself studying her. She was nervous—he could tell by the way her fingers twisted the hem of her hoodie, the way her shoulders tensed every time Evelyn asked her a question. But she didn’t shy away.

She met his mom’s gaze, listened intently, and responded with a quiet respect that wasn’t forced. Chris wasn’t used to that. Most people tiptoed around his mom, either out of pity or discomfort. But Star just… was.

And it was the way she was with Lila that got to him the most. She didn’t treat her like a kid to be humored but like someone worth listening to, worth spending time with. It reminded him of how his mom used to be before the illness took so much from her.

That feeling in his gut—the one that twisted and ached every time Star was around—was back. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall, trying to look indifferent.

When it was time to leave, Evelyn hugged Lila as tightly as her strength would allow, kissing her forehead and whispering something that made Lila giggle. Chris bent down to press a quick kiss to his mom’s cheek, murmuring something Star couldn’t hear.

As they walked out of the room, Star lingered for a moment, glancing back at Evelyn. The older woman smiled at her, her gaze warm but knowing, as if she could see straight through Star’s guarded walls.

“You’re good for them,” Evelyn said softly.

Star felt her cheeks flush. “They’re good for me,” she murmured with a soft smile before turning to follow Chris and Lila.

The walk back to the car was quiet. Lila held Chris’s hand, skipping slightly as she hummed a tune Star didn’t recognize. Chris opened the passenger door for Star without a word, his hand brushing hers briefly as she climbed in.

The car ride back was quieter than usual. Lila dozed off in the backseat, her head lolling against the window, her sketchbook clutched tightly in her lap.

Star stared out the window, her thoughts swirling. The hospital had stirred up memories she hadn’t wanted to face, but it had also given her something unexpected—connection. She glanced at Chris, his profile sharp and focused as he drove.

“Your mom’s really kind,” she said softly, breaking the silence.

Chris’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, but his voice was even when he replied. “Yeah. She is.”

Star hesitated, her fingers playing with the frayed hem of her jeans. “Thanks for letting me come,” she said quietly.

Chris glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable. “She liked you,” he said simply. “Kinda knew she would.”

Star’s chest tightened at the admission. She wanted to say more, to ask what he meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she rested her hand lightly on the console between them, her fingers brushing his briefly.

Chris didn’t pull away.

The trailer was quiet when they got back. Chris carried Lila inside, her small body heavy with sleep as her head lolled against his shoulder. Star followed, closing the door softly behind her. The familiar warmth of the space wrapped around her, a stark contrast to the sterile chill of the hospital.

Chris gently laid Lila on her bed, brushing her curls back from her face. She stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent before curling into the blankets. Star hovered near the door, unsure if she should help or stay out of the way, but Chris glanced back at her.

“Can you grab Bug’s stuffed bunny? s’over by the couch,” he said quietly.

Star nodded, moving to retrieve the well-loved bunny that Lila never slept without. When she handed it to Chris, their fingers brushed, and she caught the faintest flicker of a smile on his lips.

Chris tucked the bunny into Lila’s arms and adjusted the blanket over her shoulders. “Night, Bug,” he murmured.

“’Night,” Lila mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

Star watched from the doorway, her heart twisting at the tenderness in Chris’s actions. He moved so easily between his rough edges and these softer moments, and she felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite name.

When Lila was settled, Chris turned off the light, leaving the door slightly ajar. He stepped into the hallway, his gaze meeting Star’s briefly before he nodded toward the porch.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice low.

The air outside was crisp but not cold, the faint scent of pine and earth lingering in the night. Star leaned against the wooden railing, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked out at the dark expanse beyond the trailer park.

Chris stood beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet settling around them like a blanket.

“You okay?” he asked finally, his voice soft.

Star hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edge of the railing. “Yeah,” she said, though the word felt heavy in her mouth.

Chris didn’t push, but his gaze lingered on her profile, studying the way her jaw tensed, the way her eyes stayed fixed on the horizon as if she was afraid to meet his.

After a long pause, Star exhaled shakily, the words falling from her mouth before she could stop them. “The hospital…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “It brought back some things.”

Chris stayed quiet, giving her the space to continue.

“My mom died in a car accident,” Star said, her voice trembling slightly. “She was trying to bring me an essay I’d left at home. She knew how much it meant to me, and she…” Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in her eyes. “She didn’t make it to the school. A drunk driver hit her on the way.”

Chris’s chest tightened. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t realized the weight she was carrying every time she stepped into his home, into his life.

“I haven’t been back to a hospital since,” Star admitted, her voice quieter now. “I couldn’t. Until today.”

Chris’s hand twitched at his side, and before he could think better of it, he reached out, his fingers brushing hers. “I didn’t know,” he said softly.

She looked down at their hands, her lips pressing into a faint, sad smile. “It’s not something I talk about, I hear about it enough from my dad” she murmured. “But… being here, with you and Lila—it’s different. Your place feels safe. And I don’t have a lot of that in my life.”

Chris’s throat felt tight. He wasn’t good at this—at knowing the right things to say. But he couldn’t ignore the pull in his chest, the way her words settled deep inside him.

“You’re always welcome here,” he said quietly.

Star turned to face him fully, her eyes searching his. The vulnerability in her gaze made his heart ache.

“Chris…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do without this. Without Lila. Without you.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he didn’t move. But then, before he could talk himself out of it, he stepped closer, his hand brushing against her cheek.

“y/n,” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle. “If I kissed you right now, would you stop me?”

Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitching. For a moment, she didn’t answer, the weight of the question settling between them. Then, she shook her head, her voice soft but steady.

“I’d really, really like it if you kissed me.”

Chris��s chest tightened, and he didn’t hesitate this time. He closed the small distance between them, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was as much a confession as it was a promise.

Star’s hands found their way to his chest, gripping his shirt lightly as she leaned into him. The kiss was slow, tentative at first, but it deepened as the weight of their unspoken feelings spilled over.

When they finally broke apart, Chris rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin.

“You scare the hell out of me,” he admitted quietly.

Star laughed softly, her hands still pressed against his chest. “You’re not exactly the safest thing either.”

Chris’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, and for once, he didn’t try to hide it.

“You should stay,” he said softly. It wasn’t a question.

Star nodded, her voice barely audible. “Okay.”

Chris exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he stepped back, holding the door open for her.

Star followed him inside, her heart still racing.

Maybe this was dangerous. Maybe it would hurt later.

But for now, it felt safe.

AUTHORS NOTE: the “i’d really really like it if you kissed me” line was sooo ib something @bernardsbendystraws responded to an ask to. i seen it on my feed and it literally screamed star & chris idk! anywho they kissed, fr this time and this has opened so many doors to potential blurbs, you’re getting fed.

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @mattsmunch @pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken @mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @bluestriips @sturniolo-fann @coquettechris

#ⓘdarksturnz #𐔌 .⋮star!reader.ᐟ꒱#𐔌 .⋮artist!chris.ᐟ꒱#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo drabble #chris sturniolo blurb #christopher sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo angst #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #Spotify

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mixingandmelting · 17 hours ago

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Hello! I was wondering if you'd quite something based on the bat boys (or just Jason) reaction to realizing they liked having a normal life?

Like they go to visit the readers' family for Xmas, but their family left without letting them know, so they had the whole house to themselves, so they got to play house. It was in a whole other state, so no needing to be vigilantes. Just them with their s/o getting ready for Christmas, being shown around and just living a normal life for a few weeks.

A/N: Hope you don't mind me not writing about Duke and Damian since they're both minors so legally speaking they can't really travel out-of-state alone. Plus to be real, I highly doubt Batman would want to leave Damian unsupervised considering what happens when he's alone 😔

Dick:

His whole life he was anything but normal, being raised in a circus and now, fighting crimes 24/7. Excitement, action, danger, and adventures are what defines him and how he had always dreamt of how his life would go on. But here he is, tasting “normal” for the first time in his life by spending the holiday with you in the house you were raised in. Snowball fights and building snowmen delays the process of clearing the snow. Not to forget the snow angels that are made once he playfully tackles you down into the snow after you manage to get more on him than yourself. Putting up the lights and decoration both inside and outside of the house was more fun than the times he helped out at the Wayne manor, while finding out shopping for anything during the holiday season is a battle of its own. Adding that to the daily routine that’s usually gone through on his days off every day, it’s… quiet and peaceful. He doesn’t wake up to sirens or violence. He’s not worried about another mission, instead figuring out how he’ll get your present under the tree without getting caught. You greeting him at the door, placing a kiss on his cheeks that are slightly bitten from frost when it’s decided he’s moving the snow on his own makes him so fuzzy, he starts calling you honey over babe. The most mind boggling about this? He doesn't mind it. It’s hard to accept that he actually likes “normal”. He’s confused over liking a concept that’s completely foreign to him and with his personality, he won’t last long with living with “normal” forever. The happy couple/marriage vibe though? He’s on board and digs it, one-hundred percent. Especially in a house filled with childhood memories, it’s giving him ideas and changing what he perhaps would want in the future in ways he wouldn’t think of back then.

Jason:

Considering his childhood and how he went through the whole reincarnation cycle of dying and then reviving, it’s a desire he had as a kid but gave up right away. He didn’t even fathom that a day would come where he would experience what it would be like to be normal. Walking around and staying in the typical home most average people live in made him tense the first three days, even more so knowing this was where you lived since a child. Moving snow with you becomes his favorite pastime, where you’d distract from getting the job done and have him chase after you from the snowball that hits his back. Or bringing out steaming hot chocolate so his nose and hands would stop feeling as if they’re ready to fall off from the cold after cleaning up and helping you build a snow fort of all things. His hands are frequently on your waist from holding you up to string the lights and hang the decorations after you frown from his “aesthetic” way of placing them, pushing him to move aside so you could show how a real pro does it. It’s also his first time struggling to find time to get a present behind your back from being with you all the time. Eating meals together, taking walks together around the neighborhood and city, acting as bodyguard during grocery and Christmas shopping, spending time together as a couple in general in a house that’s warm, cozy, and peaceful as Jason Todd is a first. Not as Robin once dead and revived or Red Hood, the violent outlaw. It’s a wish once buried in his heart on top of another where he’s spending time with you that comes true before the holiday. He’s emotional from being so happy, he doesn’t think of anything else other than wanting to live like this for the rest of his life.

Tim:

Contrary to the stereotypes depicted by the media, rich kids don’t spend time with their family; it's usually spent with their nanny as their parents leave them for long periods of time in a house too large for two people. Sure over the years he has healed with his friends and a new family. But it feels like a dream come true with you. He’s laughing and enjoying the soft fluffiness of white that gets all over him, freezing his nose and hands when he tries to clear the snow. He gets into it with you over how the lights and decorations should be placed inside and outside the house when you mentioned you want to outdo your neighbors, a set of blueprints and sketches drawn while debating that rainbow lights were better than the flickering, white ones. To much of his chagrin, he’s fumbling with all the things you toss at him when he helps you shop, him being in charge of the shopping cart as he stays in-line as you grab and bring back what’s needed in the store. Not that he’s complaining, his face suddenly tinted in red when you come back and slip your hand between his hand and the handle during the wait for the next opened cashier. Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t struggle with getting you a Christmas present and placing it under the tree. He had been keeping tabs since the day after Valentine’s Day on the things you’ve been looking at while relying on your habits he memorized to time things perfectly. Similar to Jason, he, too, wanted to live normally like any other person. Him getting to do that by prepping for the holiday with you heals the child in him, making him content and wishing the time the two of you currently have lasts forever.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake #red robin dc #red robin x reader

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delulustateofmind · 3 days ago

Text

The Assistant Program

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Manipulation, Dub Con, Getting frisky (they're fucking) in the backseat of a car...Pet name: Puppy, pup. Mean sugu. Cum play? (Very brief). overstimulation.

Yan!Geto x Assistant!Reader

WC: 4k

a/n: Ahhhh, geto is rotting my brain again. There's something about him NOT being allowed to defect that has me frothing. I wrote a blurb earlier about this but was never actually able to get the idea into words until recently.

What if Geto Suguru hadn't crossed the line that night? If he hadn’t succumbed to the darkness, yet still nursed a quiet, simmering disdain for nonsorcerers—a festering grudge that earned him more than a few wary glances from the higher-ups.

Their answer to his "problem"? The Assistant Program.

It was Gojo who delivered the news, all lazy smiles and half-hearted reassurances as he clapped Suguru on the shoulder. “Think of it as a little help for that summer fatigue you’ve been dragging around,” he quipped, though Suguru caught the faint edge of caution in his friend’s gaze.

Suguru only smiled in response, his usual gentle expression betraying none of the irritation boiling beneath the surface. His dark eyes, framed by long lashes, glinted with something unreadable as he watched Gojo walk away.

And then, there was you.

A grade four sorcerer. Not someone who belonged in his orbit, freshly graduated like him with an incredibly low grade. A novice in comparison to his strength—a mere puppy forced to share missions, long car rides, and quiet evenings with him.

You were annoyingly bright, a contrast to the brooding aura he so often carried. Your cheerful demeanor and the way you fidgeted nervously around him should have grated on his nerves. At first, it did. Suguru wasn’t sure whether to laugh at your naivety or sneer at your eagerness to please.

How could you grin at him so freely, as if the thought of erasing all nonsorcerers didn’t run through his mind like a broken record?

But as time went on, he began to notice the little things. The way your gaze lingered on him, captivated by the dark cascade of his hair that framed his sharp features. The way you’d steal glances at the broad span of his shoulders, the way his uniform hugged his tall, lean, but muscular frame.

He didn’t miss how your voice softened whenever you said his name, how you leaned closer without even realizing it when he spoke. It wasn’t long before irritation twisted into something far more dangerous.

You weren’t just a puppy anymore. You were his puppy

Suguru made it a game—seeing how far he could push you, how much he could demand, and how readily you would obey. His long, calloused fingers would tug lightly at your sleeve when he called you into his apartment late at night, his dark eyes narrowing with faux vulnerability as he claimed he was having “certain thoughts.”

Bleary-eyed, still fumbling to tie your coat, you’d show up on his doorstep, tail wagging in that metaphorical way that made his chest tighten. “Is everything okay, Sugu?” you’d ask, concern dripping from your voice, as though you weren’t the one being dragged into his games.

He’d usher you in with that same gentle smile, his long hair slipping over his shoulders as he draped an arm around yours. “I just needed some company,” he’d murmur, leading you to the couch, where he’d pull you into his lap with ease that left you breathless.

At first, it was innocent—or so you told yourself. He’d hold you close, his broad chest warm against your back, his deep voice wrapping around you like a lullaby as he claimed he needed comfort. But as the nights wore on, the boundaries blurred.

This time, his lips pressed against your neck, his large hands firm on your waist as he whispered, “Aren’t you supposed to service my every need, little puppy?”

You stiffened, your hands pressing lightly against his chest, but the solid muscle beneath your touch only reminded you how much stronger he was. “Suguru, this… this isn’t part of the contract.”

His soft chuckle was like velvet, wrapping around you and pulling you under. “Contracts are flexible,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

The kiss was light at first—a fleeting touch that left your breath hitching. But then his tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, coaxing you to part them. You hesitated, and he didn’t wait, slipping inside and deepening the kiss. The sensation was overwhelming, his movements deliberate and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you.

Your mind grew hazy, a mix of exhaustion and the intoxicating warmth of him seeping into your senses. His fingers slid up to cradle the back of your neck, holding you in place as if he feared you’d pull away.

When he finally broke the kiss, his lips lingered just above yours, his warm breath fanning your flushed skin. “Good puppy,” he murmured, a dangerous glint in his dark eyes as satisfaction curled his lips into a faint smirk.

You didn’t leave his lap for the rest of the night. Every time you shifted, his hands tightened on your waist, keeping you firmly nestled against him. He pressed kisses to your lips, slow and deliberate, each one leaving your mind hazier, your resistance dissolving like sugar in water.

By the time you finally stumbled home, your head spun, replaying the events of the night like a broken record. Something felt… wrong.

But Suguru didn’t seem to think so.

The next day, he acted like everything was perfectly normal, lounging in the corner of the room during a briefing, his gaze tracking your every movement. When you finally mustered the courage to approach him, he greeted you with a sly smile, as if he had been waiting.

“About last night,” you started, voice trembling slightly.

“What about it?” he interrupted smoothly, tilting his head with feigned curiosity. “We’re together now. Isn’t that obvious?”

Your breath hitched. “Together? That wasn’t—”

“Stop overthinking it,” he said, his tone soft but firm, like he was addressing a child. He reached out, brushing a stray hair from your face with a gentleness that made your stomach twist. “You’ve been there for me all this time. It’s natural for us to take the next step.”

You blinked at him, trying to process his words. “But I didn’t—”

“You didn’t what?” he asked, his voice dropping just slightly. The warmth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something colder. “Don’t tell me you’re going to deny me now after everything I’ve done for you. After everything we've done for each other. ”

The words hit like a slap, his tone dripping with quiet reproach. He let the silence hang heavy between you before sighing, the sound laced with disappointment.

“I see,” he said finally, leaning back with a detached expression. “I must have misread things. I thought you cared about me. But if this is how you really feel, then…” He trailed off, letting the weight of his unfinished sentence fill the air.

Your heart clenched. The idea of Suguru pulling away felt unbearable, like a void threatening to swallow you whole. Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “No, it’s not like that!”

His lips curved into a smile, slow and calculated. “Good,” he said, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin up. “I knew my puppy wouldn’t disappoint me.”

From that moment on, he took control of your life in ways so subtle you barely noticed at first. A comment here, a suggestion there—little nudges that steered you further into his orbit.

“You shouldn’t overwork yourself,” he’d say with a faint frown, slipping your phone from your hands. “Let me take care of things for you.” And just like that, he’d rearrange your schedule, leaving you dependent on him for even the smallest tasks.

When you hesitated to stay late after missions, he’d fix you with a soft look that somehow made your chest ache. “You wouldn’t leave me all alone, would you? After everything we’ve been through? What if I end up doing something...?”

That final phrase was the words that always left you at his beck and call. You didn't want him to be executed, he was a good man after all.

Every move he made was calculated, each word a thread tightening the web he had spun around you. And the worst part? No matter how much you tried to resist, you always found yourself falling back into his arms, his lips ghosting over your ear as he whispered, “Good puppy.”

Sometimes, after swallowing a particularly vile curse, Suguru’s mood was dark and volatile. It clung to him like a shadow, his sharp edges cutting deeper into those unfortunate enough to cross his path. But tonight, his frustration found its focus on you.

You barely had time to settle into the backseat when his hands pulled you onto his lap, his grip firm, almost bruising. His lips found yours immediately, kissing you with a frantic desperation that left you breathless.

“Disgusting,” he muttered against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. The faint bitterness of his words contrasted with the soft graze of his lips, warm and plush, leaving a shiver in their wake. “You don’t know how lucky you are. You don’t have to taste it—any of it.”

Your hands instinctively pressed against his chest, trying to steady yourself. Beneath your trembling palms, his body was firm, his broad, muscular build radiating a comforting heat despite the tension that simmered just beneath the surface. But his grip tightened, his long fingers digging into your waist like a warning.

“Shh,” he murmured, his tone deceptively soothing as his tongue slipped past your lips, tasting, devouring, claiming. His dark eyes, framed by long, silky strands of black hair that cascaded over his shoulders, bore into yours with an intensity that left you breathless. His hand, large and calloused yet gentle, trailed up to your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, leaving no room for protest.

“You understand, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice low and coaxing, vibrating against your lips as his breath fanned over your flushed skin. His thumb brushed lightly along your cheek, the roughness of his touch sending goosebumps down your spine.

“I need this, puppy,” he continued, his words curling around your resolve like a leash. “I need you to take it away—the taste, the filth. Make me forget.”

His words carried a vulnerability that twisted something deep inside you, sending a shivers down your body. Part of you knew you should push back, should reclaim some semblance of control, but the way his hands moved—slow, deliberate, his strong fingers tugging at the edges of your sorcerer uniform—left you pliant under his touch.

“Suguru, we shouldn’t…” you whispered weakly, your voice faltering as his lips brushed along the curve of your neck, the heat of his breath leaving your skin tingling. The way he nipped at the soft skin.

“You’re such a good puppy,” he murmured, his voice softening into something almost tender as his hands roamed lower, pulling you closer, pressing your body against his. The faint scent of his cologne—earthy and subtly sweet—lingered in the air, intoxicating you further. “Always trying so hard to please me.”

Your breath hitched as his tongue slid against yours, his kisses growing slower, deeper, impossibly intoxicating. The silky strands of his long hair tickled your cheek as he leaned closer, each movement deliberate and all-encompassing.

The tension in your body ebbed away, replaced by a warmth that seeped into your very core. You stopped resisting, your hands no longer pushing him away but clutching at his broad shoulders instead, your fingers tangling briefly in the smooth fabric of his shirt.

“There we go,” he murmured against your lips, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “That’s it. Good puppy. Let me take care of you.”

The praise sent a dizzying rush through you, leaving you feeling weightless and tethered all at once. The way his lips trailed along your jawline, the way his hands held you firmly yet with a gentleness that belied his strength—it left you unable to think of anything else.

By the time your uniform slipped from your shoulders, pooling in soft folds around your waist, you were pliant in his arms, melting into him like he had always wanted. His long, dark hair brushed against your skin as he leaned forward, his lips trailing along your collarbone with a reverence that made your chest tighten.

“See? Isn’t this better?” he whispered, his voice a dark lullaby as his lips pressed against a sweet spot on your neck, before sucking a mark. “This is where you belong. With me.”

And though a flicker of doubt lingered in the farthest corner of your mind, it was drowned out by the warmth of his touch, his kiss, and the way his deep voice curled around your name, making you feel like nothing else mattered.

Because, deep down, you wanted to please him.

And Suguru knew it.

He knew it in the way your body yielded to him, how your soft whimpers filled the air as he slowly eased you onto his cock, every inch stretching you to fit him perfectly. It was as if he was made for you, stuffing you full, hitting that sweet spot with practiced ease as he would gently roll his hips upwards. His large hands guided your hips with steady precision, his strong build towering over you, making you feel so small yet so protected in his hold.

“So cute,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress as he drank in every gasp and tremble, his dark eyes tracing the way your body moved with him. “You’re perfect, puppy. My perfect little thing.”

His long fingers tightened their grip on your waist as your breath hitched at his praise, the words wrapping around your mind like a leash, pulling you deeper into his control. Bringing a hand over to smack the fat of your ass just to hear that sweet whimper. His lips found your neck again, pressing feather-light kisses to your skin, each touch leaving you trembling with a need you didn’t know you had.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice laced with a sweetness that only made the possessive edge beneath it more apparent. “Just like that. You’re so good for me, aren’t you?”

Your hips moved instinctively, rolling against his in a rhythm that he controlled with the firm grip of his large hands on your waist. His fingers, calloused yet careful, dug into your skin, grounding you against the steady friction that sent jolts of heat through your body. The low, satisfied hums rumbling from his broad chest mingled with your soft moans, which he eagerly muffled with his lips.

“You’re mine,” Suguru murmured, his voice dropping into something darker, more vulnerable. His dark eyes, half-lidded beneath long, inky lashes, bore into yours with an intensity that made your heart twist. His smooth, dark hair, damp with sweat, clung to his temples as he leaned closer, brushing stray strands from your cheek with an almost gentle reverence. “Do you understand that? You belong to me.”

The way he said it made your heart stutter, a flicker of something raw and uncertain threading through his tone. It was fleeting, quickly replaced by the intoxicating confidence that had always defined him, but it was there—a crack in the armor he never let anyone see.

“And if you ever leave me…” His lips, warm and impossibly soft, brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice low and dripping with quiet menace. “I’ll find you. No matter where you go, no matter who you run to, I’ll bring you back. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

His hips rolled against yours, punctuating each word with a slow, deliberate thrust that left you gasping. His broad shoulders shifted beneath your trembling hands, his muscles taut as though holding back the full force of his need. “But you wouldn’t leave me, would you, puppy?” he asked, his tone softening, almost tender, as his lips found yours again. His dark eyes searched your face, his long hair framing his sharp jawline as though daring you to deny him. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

You shook your head, your thoughts too scattered to form words. His kisses deepened, his tongue sweeping over yours as he swallowed every moan, every gasp, while his hips began to move with increasing fervor.

“Good,” he whispered, his lips curling into a wicked smile against your skin. His teeth grazed your collarbone briefly before returning to your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses that left you trembling. “Because I’d ruin anyone who tried to take you from me.”

The promise in his words sent a shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care—not when his hands held you so tightly, his firm grip anchoring you as though you might slip away. Not when his voice dripped with honeyed praise, rich and deep like a melody meant only for you. Not when the way he moved against you left your mind spinning with nothing but him. Not when you were this close.

He kissed away every gasp, every whimper, his words sinking into you like a mantra you couldn’t escape. “And I’m yours. Always.” Those words came out with a whole list of rambles, as his pace quickened. The angle of his hips driving into you with full force and practiced care.

His hands never faltered, guiding your hips with deliberate care at first, his strong fingers curling around your waist as though he could mold you to him completely. He let you set the rhythm briefly, watching through half-lidded eyes as your movements made you shiver and sigh in his arms. But when your legs trembled with exhaustion, when your pace faltered, he took control entirely.

“Just trust me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his grip tightened, pulling you flush against his broad chest. The heat radiating from him seeped into your skin, leaving you breathless as his voice dipped lower. “Be a good puppy and let me take care of you.”

And you did. You melted against him, your cheek pressing into the firm warmth of his shoulder as his hands moved your hips for you, his pace quickening until you were left clinging to him helplessly. The shift in control left you hazy, your thoughts scattering as his low hums rumbled through your body like a steady heartbeat.

“Look at you,” Suguru cooed softly, his voice dripping with praise as his hips snapped upward to meet yours. His dark lashes fluttered briefly, framing the heated look in his eyes as his lips brushed over your temple. “So perfect, so obedient… You’re such a good puppy for me, trusting me like this.”

You felt yourself unraveling under him, the steady rhythm of his movements and the way his hands held you firmly, securely, driving you closer to the edge. His lips ghosted over your neck, pressing soft kisses that left your skin tingling, his whispers weaving through your mind like a spell. You weren't sure who was the addicted one anymore at this rate, he was just so intoxicating. You didn't even care what you were agreeing to by being his.

“You’re fucking mine,” he repeated, his voice trembling with something raw, almost desperate. His dark eyes, half-lidded and glinting with intensity, burned into yours as his hips rolled faster, his breathing growing heavier with each movement. “No one else can have you. No one else can make you feel like this. Say it, puppy. Say you’re mine.”

The plea in his voice, the sheer force of his presence, left no room for hesitation. His long, dark hair clung to his damp temples, strands brushing against your flushed cheeks as you gasped, “I’m yours,” your voice trembling, your words barely more than a whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone thick with satisfaction, a wicked smile tugging at his lips as his strong hands tightened their grip on your hips. His pace quickened, each thrust more deliberate, more insistent, as though he were imprinting himself into every part of you.

Your body tensed, trembling in his hold as heat overwhelmed you, his relentless movements pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You cried out softly, clinging to his broad shoulders, your nails digging into his taut muscles as waves of pleasure rippled through you.

Suguru groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he buried himself deeper, his release following yours in a shuddering rush. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you against him as though afraid you might slip away, his strength grounding you even as your limbs went limp in his arms.

His head dropped to your shoulder, his long lashes brushing against your skin as his breaths came in heavy, uneven pants. The heat of him radiated against you, his broad chest rising and falling as he clung to you, his fingers now stroking your back in slow, almost reverent movements.

He pressed a final kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if sealing a vow. “You’ll always be mine,” he whispered, his voice low, possessive, and tinged with a vulnerability that cracked through his usual confidence. For a fleeting moment, it was as though he feared the very idea of losing you.

And as you lay against him, too worn to think, too lost in the haze of his touch to resist, you felt the weight of his words settle over you like a chain you couldn’t break—and, in some part of you, didn’t want to.

It wasn’t like Suguru was a bad partner by any means. In fact, he was perfect. Almost too perfect.

He was like a man pulled straight out of a drama, always knowing exactly what to say, what to do, to make you melt under his touch. He made you feel good, even if the acts he coaxed you into were sometimes a little embarrassing, leaving you flushed and breathless in his arms.

“Good pup,” he’d murmur with a satisfied smirk as he filled you to the brim over and over, the praises rolling off his tongue like honey. He had a way of making you crave his approval, of making you feel special—his and his alone.

And after he consumed another curse, when the bitterness lingered in his mouth, he’d find you, need you. He’d kiss you deeply, claiming your taste as his salvation, before trailing his lips down your body, leaving you trembling beneath him.

When he reached the place where he craved you most, his tongue would glide between your thighs, his movements deliberate, calculated. His firm hands gripped your hips with a strength that kept you from squirming too much, though the way you trembled beneath him only fueled his need to have his tongue buried inside you. Suguru reveled in the way you gasped and moaned, your body arching into him, surrendering to his touch. He’d drink your juices as if they were the key to getting that awful taste out of his mouth, his tongue teasing and coaxing until you fell apart, only for him to push you further, again and again.

He especially savored the moments when you gushed on his tongue, your legs quivering, your hands clutching at his hair or the sheets. He’d slow down just to torment you, letting his tongue flick against your sensitive clit in slow, lazy kitten licks, watching as your body writhed, overwhelmed by the overstimulation. Tears would pool in your eyes, your vision blurry as you looked down at him, and Suguru would grin, knowing he had reduced you to this state.

But his favorite indulgence came after, when he pushed himself back inside you, filling you completely once more. When he was spent, he’d make sure nothing went to waste. Suguru would lean down, his tongue slipping between your folds to lap up the white sticky mess he left behind. The act was as much for him as it was for you, his gaze locking onto yours as he gathered the mixture of your arousal and his release. Then, with calculated slowness, he’d spit the warm substance onto your tongue, his voice a low growl as he commanded, “Swallow it, pup. Every drop.”

But Suguru wasn’t always this intense, this insatiable. He had a sweet side, one that wrapped around you like a warm blanket on a cold night.

He’d hold your hand as you walked together, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that felt almost innocent. At night, he’d pull you into his chest, his arms a protective cage as his breaths evened out, soft and peaceful. His presence was comforting, grounding, even if you sometimes caught a glimpse of something darker lurking beneath.

Your parents adored him.

The first time they met Suguru, he was the picture of charm—polite, attentive, and disarmingly sweet. He brought your mother flowers, complimented her cooking with such genuine enthusiasm that she beamed for the rest of the night. He helped your father carry groceries without being asked, engaging him in an easy conversation that left your dad chuckling over some shared joke.

“He’s wonderful,” your mother whispered to you that evening, practically glowing. “The kind of man every parent dreams their child will marry.”

And for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe it.

After all, Suguru was wonderful. He made you feel seen, wanted, cherished. He kissed away your doubts, held you like you were the most precious thing in the world. But beneath his sweetness, there was something possessive, something all-consuming that clung to you like a shadow.

You tried not to think about it too much—the way his smile tightened when someone got too close to you, the way his hand on your waist sometimes felt like a claim. Because when he held you at night, his voice soft and full of love as he murmured how much you meant to him, it was easy to forget the weight of the chains you wore

#jujutsu kaisen #yandere #yandere suguru geto #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto x reader #yandere suguru x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere geto #yandere suguru #mean sugu

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mya-valentine · 3 days ago

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The One That Got Away (Almost)

Synopsis: Gojo Satoru, used to being admired by everyone, becomes obsessed with you, the one person immune to his charm. His efforts to win your attention grow genuine, and he unexpectedly falls for you, realizing that sincerity, not power, wins your heart.

The first time Gojo Satoru met you, he was convinced it was a fluke.

You were the new hire at Jujutsu High, assigned to assist with logistics and administration. It wasn’t a flashy role, but one that required intelligence, patience, and an unshakable demeanor—qualities you embodied effortlessly. When you were introduced to the faculty, Gojo, being Gojo, strolled into the room with his usual swagger, sunglasses perched on his nose, a mischievous grin already in place.

“Ah, so you’re the infamous newbie. Welcome to the Gojo Satoru Experience! If you’re lucky, I’ll even let you buy me coffee later.”

You didn’t even glance up from your paperwork.

“Good to meet you, Mr. Gojo,” you said, your voice polite but distant. “Please keep your requests professional.”

There wasn’t even a flicker of reaction on your face. No blush, no stammering, no giggle—nothing. You were like a fortress. Gojo blinked, momentarily thrown off. Most people fawned over him, or at least tried to mask their awe. But you? You treated him like he was just… another coworker.

Naturally, this only made him more interested.

Gojo had never been one to back down from a challenge. The more indifferent you seemed, the more he leaned into his antics. He began showing up in your office unannounced, leaning casually against your desk with his long, lanky frame.

“[Name], I was thinking we should grab lunch. You know, team bonding and all that. My treat!”

“No, thank you. I already brought lunch.”

Undeterred, he’d try again the next day.

“[Name]! I brought you a coffee. Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

“Thanks, but I don’t drink coffee.”

He even started showing off during training sessions, making dramatic displays of his cursed techniques in the courtyard, fully aware you could see from your office window. But every time he glanced toward you, hoping to catch you staring, you were buried in your work, utterly unfazed.

It was infuriating.

“She’s like… a brick wall,” Gojo groaned one evening to Shoko, who was thoroughly amused by his plight.

“Maybe she just doesn’t like arrogant man-children,” Shoko quipped, blowing smoke from her cigarette.

“Not possible. Everyone likes me.”

“Clearly not everyone,” she replied with a smirk.

If subtlety didn’t work, Gojo decided he’d have to crank things up a notch.

He started leaving little gifts on your desk—things he thought you’d appreciate, like rare snacks, handmade trinkets, or even a limited-edition plushie from your favorite series (he’d overheard you mention it to Ijichi). But when you walked into your office and saw the plushie, all you did was sigh and set it aside.

“You’re a hard nut to crack, [Name],” he muttered one day, leaning in dangerously close while you sorted through mission reports.

“Maybe I’m just not interested,” you replied evenly, still not looking up.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Not interested? That was a first.

But instead of deterring him, it only fueled his determination.

Weeks passed, and Gojo’s antics grew more elaborate. He once conjured a barrier of shimmering infinity around your office, claiming it was to “keep you safe,” though everyone knew it was just an excuse to show off. Another time, he brought you a bouquet of cursed energy-infused flowers that glowed faintly in the dark.

You finally snapped.

“Gojo,” you said sharply, your tone slicing through the air.

"Yes, [Name]?" he replied, visibly perking up like an eager puppy.

“Why are you wasting so much time on me? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Your words weren’t harsh, but they were firm. For once, Gojo didn’t have a clever retort. He rubbed the back of his neck, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing his face.

“I guess… I just like being around you,” he admitted. “Even if you act like I’m invisible.”

Your expression softened slightly, though you didn’t let it show. “You’re not invisible, Gojo. You’re just… not as irresistible as you think you are.”

It was the truth, plain and simple. And yet, hearing it made Gojo’s heart race in a way he hadn’t expected.

Gojo’s initial interest in you had been shallow, born of his own ego and curiosity. But as time went on, he began to notice the little things about you—the way you always stayed late to ensure everyone’s paperwork was in order, the quiet wit hidden in your rare remarks, the subtle kindness in the way you treated the students.

One evening, as he watched you from afar, something clicked.

This wasn’t just a game anymore.

It happened on a rainy night. You were walking home when a sudden downpour caught you off guard. Without an umbrella, you resigned yourself to getting soaked—until a familiar figure appeared beside you, holding one over your head.

“Gojo?” you asked, startled.

“What, you think I’d let you walk home in the rain?” he said, grinning.

For once, he wasn’t teasing or showboating. His tone was genuine, his smile softer than usual.

You hesitated before replying, “Thank you.”

The walk was quiet, but comfortable. For the first time, you saw a side of Gojo that wasn’t all bravado. And for the first time, he saw a flicker of warmth in your eyes.

A few weeks later, Gojo found you alone in the school courtyard, staring up at the sky. He approached cautiously, uncharacteristically nervous.

“[Name],” he began, his voice unsteady.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I… I think I like you. For real. And not just because you’re the first person to ever ignore me,” he added quickly. “I like you. The way you are. The way you drive me insane but also keep me grounded.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your expression unreadable.

Finally, you sighed. “You’re exhausting, Gojo.”

The Confession

His face fell slightly.

“But…” You smirked, just a little. “I think I like you too. For real.”

For a moment, Gojo just stood there, stunned. Then, his trademark grin returned, brighter than ever.

“I knew it! You do like me!”

You rolled your eyes, but the faint blush on your cheeks didn’t escape his notice.

From that day forward, Gojo’s antics didn’t stop—they just became less about impressing you and more about making you smile. And, to his surprise, he found himself smiling more too.

Because for once, Gojo Satoru—the strongest sorcerer alive—had found someone who made him feel like just Satoru. And he wouldn’t trade that for the world.

Masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo

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oleandequill · 2 days ago

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Currently out touching grass, but I scheduled this ahead of time.

A crazy idea I have for MegOP, both Shattered Glass and canon, involves reprogramming. This is mostly for TFOne, cause I don’t know much about the other continuities but this is a general idea that could probably fit any continuity.

So like, imagine Megatron being so sparkbroken about the whole break up thing but he wants to focus on being the leader of the Decepticons so he decides to reprogram away all the feelings he ever held for Optimus Prime/Orion Pax. I mean, the Decepticons aren’t really above reprogramming (Although in the SG version, Megatron definitely gets yelled at because that is unethical damn it even if you did it to yourself).

Megatron only reprogrammed the feelings because reprogramming memories is much more dangerous and could compromise him. Although, it’s just as dangerous to reprogram your feelings for someone away - but he didn’t consider that lmao.

For canon Megatron, after the reprogramming, the only emotion left for him to feel about Optimus is rage. He needs it for battle so he kept all the frustration he has ever had for the other mech so he becomes much more ruthless during their fights. No more being held back by old feelings. Optimus is unaware of the reprogramming because to be fair, Megatron has always been very angry anyway. At best, he just notices that Megatron has become much more violent during their fights and no longer hesitates. Optimus just assumes Megatron has finally given up on what they used to be.

For SG Megatron, he took it further - since I like to imagine SG Megatron being more sensitive (just a little bit) - and erased literally all his feelings. So now all he feels towards SG Optimus is apathy. SG Optimus has become so sadistic that SG Megatron just couldn’t keep his old feelings anymore. He knows he can’t hesitate in battle because SG Optimus will hurt so many mechs. SG Optimus does realize something is off though, since SG Megatron just doesn’t respond to him anymore no matter what he does. He would probably try to investigate what happened and find out about the reprogramming.

#shattered glass #sg megatron #sg optimus prime #sg megop #sg tfone #megop #dpax #opmeg #transformers one #transformers #megatron #optimus prime

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himluv · 9 hours ago

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The Intervention

Here's the next chapter of Say My Name (Say it Twice)! Enjoy some more Neve and Bellara, and of course Lucanis and Spite.

Lucanis sat on the cot in Neve’s study, one arm over his chest, the other gently swirling a steaming cup of coffee. That was his only defense against the women staring him down. Neve sat behind her desk watching him with a little smirk on her lips, while Bellara leaned against the front of the desk with both arms crossed and a frown on her face.

Spite sat perched on one of Neve’s bookcases, swatting at wisps like a cat after fireflies.

Lucanis bit back a smile at the demon’s antics, then returned his attention to Bellara. “All right,” he said. “You wanted to talk.”

Neve rolled her eyes. “To be clear, Bel wanted to talk. I’m just… facilitating.”

“Right,” Bellara said, nodding. Then she scowled at Lucanis. “What’s going on with you and Rook?”

He sighed and fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Nothing,” he said.

Neve raised an eyebrow at him. “So, we just imagined all those heated glances over dinner the other night?”

Lucanis shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Then how do you explain what happened in the Crossroads the other day?” Bellara asked.

He shook his head. “You’ll have to ask Rook about that.”

“I did.” She frowned.

“And?” He could tell from her face that she hadn’t liked Rook’s answer.

“She told me not to worry about her and that she was handling it.”

Neve shook her head and gave him a wry smile. “Sounds familiar.”

“It sure does,” Bellara said. “Must be all that time she spends with you, Lucanis.” She glared at him.

Lucanis took a drink of his coffee. “I told you, Bellara, it isn’t any more time than she spends with anyone else.”

Neve snorted. “And you believe that?”

“It’s the truth,” he said.

Both women just stared at him.

“What?”

Bellara rolled her eyes. “We have eyes, Lucanis.”

“And ears,” Neve said. “You’ve hardly been subtle.”

Lucanis went still, panic bubbling in his chest. “What do you mean?” Was he sending signals he wasn’t even aware of? Did the whole Lighthouse know how he felt about Rook? If they did… did Teia and Viago know, too? If they knew, then Illario surely did.

Was Rook in danger because of him?

“You and Rook,” Neve said. “The banter, the heated looks when you think no one’s looking–”

”– the way you watch her back more than anyone else’s,” Bellara added. “And how you’re both so careful not to touch in front of anyone?”

Neve nodded. “That was a big tell. No one is that aware of another person if there isn’t something going on.”

Bellara laughed. “I know, right?” She turned back to Lucanis and her smile faded. “Oh.”

Lucanis felt the blood drain from his face as he realized that, yes, everyone did know how he felt about Rook.

Neve looked at him with surprise. “No,” she said. “There’s no way you thought that was subtle!”

“There’s nothing to be subtle about,” he said. “We’re just colleagues.”

Again, the women stared at him.

“Friends,” he admitted.

NO! Spite said from his perch. Rook. Is. More.

Neve and Bellara looked at him with such disbelief that Lucanis knew he was only trying to fool himself. “Fine,” he said. “I…” he sighed. “Like Rook.”

Neve smiled. “Now, doesn’t that feel better?”

He glared at her, but her smile only widened.

Bellara’s grin could outshine the sun. “How long have you two–”

“–We haven’t,” he said. “We aren’t…” he cleared his throat and knocked back the rest of his coffee, then set the cup on the floor between his feet.

Bellara’s face fell. “Wait. What?” She and Neve shared a glance. “Why not?”

His mind spun with all the reasons. He was an abomination. He was damaged goods. He didn’t know the first thing about love, real love that wasn’t part of a romance novel. His cousin might be trying to kill him. He could barely sleep and when he did manage it, he still dreamed of the Ossuary. His hands knew only death, how could he trust them to cradle her heart?

Lu. Can. Is.

He blinked, rousing from all those terrible, spiraling thoughts. Neve and Bellara were watching him, waiting for his response. “Rook deserves better.”

Neve sat back in her chair, packing her pipe. “And you get to decide that for her? Hardly seems fair.”

“The world isn’t fair,” he said.

“True.” She lit her pipe with the snap of her fingers. She inhaled then breathed out a plume of fragrant smoke. “So, why do the world’s work for it?”

“I–” he ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “I can’t,” he said, his voice trembling.

“Ah,” Neve said. “The truth at last.”

Bellara looked between them, her brow furrowed. “You can’t what?”

Lucanis gave Neve a pleading look. A look that Bellara interpreted just as well.

“But, Rook likes you!”

He couldn’t look at the elf. “I know.”

“You could be together!” Her voice hit a new pitch in her confused frustration.

“I know, Bellara.” Did she think he didn’t know that? That he didn’t fantasize about holding Rook, about kissing her whenever he pleased, about sleeping in her arms?

“Then why won’t–”

“–Bel,” Neve said, her voice low.

Lucanis felt pinned to the cot, his heart racing against his suddenly too-tight ribcage. He couldn’t breath, everything felt constricted. His blood thundered in his ears, he knew it was his blood, but it sounded like water. Like he was underwater.

No! Spite seethed. Get out. We had a DEAL. Get out!

That familiar chill climbed up Lucanis’s spine. He shook his head, rolled his neck. “No,” he whispered. “Not now. Please.” He focused on his breath, controlling it as he cataloged the sensations around him. The aroma of coffee and pipe smoke, the rough brush of the linen blankets beneath him. The chatter of the wisps that floated around the room, oblivious to the turmoil inside him.

“Lucanis?” Neve’s voice sounded far away, but firm. Real. Like a place he could land.

He opened his eyes, only then realizing he had closed them. The first thing he saw was Neve, her dark eyes wide with concern.

“I’m all right,” he said. His voice sounded far from all right, shaky and thin. He glanced at Bellara, who looked frightened. He gave her a fragile smile. “That is why,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Lucanis.” Her chin quivered and her eyes welled up.

Lucanis didn’t think he could handle it if she cried. He held up a hand to ward off her concern, but said, “You’re doing my dishes for a week.”

She let out a surprised laugh. “I’ll do them for a month.”

He chuckled at that. “Even better,” he said. He glanced between the women. “Can we agree to leave my personal life be for awhile?”

Neve and Bellara both winced. “I think we can consider this case closed,” Neve said.

Bellara nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I am sorry, Lucanis.”

He nodded and picked up his cup. “I know, Bellara.” He stood and tilted his chin at them, then left for the dining hall. He needed the dim, close comfort of the pantry. He needed the smell of roasted coffee beans and wax candles. And though he knew the risks, Lucanis needed to sleep, even if just for an hour or two.

Maybe then, with a little distance, everything that had just happened in Neve’s study wouldn’t seem so terrible.

#lucanis dellamorte #spite dellamorte #neve gallus #bellara lutare #rookanis #lucanis x rook #embria aldwir #himluv's writing tag

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phantomyre · 2 days ago

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In a morbid sense, it was a twisted yet beautiful sight to see Sephiroth holding the head of Sephiroth in his hand—staring in the face of the man who had both created and tormented him; the true source of all of Sephiroth’s nightmares. Even if Hojo had been the cause of everyone’s pain, including Vincent’s, at least he had tasted the goodness that came with humanity, imperfections and all. Sephiroth, on the other hand, had been robbed of all of it before conception. However, was this truly Sephiroth or Jenova?

Sephiroth’s response gave Vincent that answer, and the gunslinger blinked in a mild confusion at first. So it wasn’t Jenova after all… the shift in essence was curious. But if this was Sephiroth, then what was this powerful sensation he felt atop the mountain? Had Sephiroth truly gained the freedom from Jenova’s control? Vincent didn’t immediately respond to Sephiroth and briefly turned part way to look up at the mountain. The power shook the mountain. He could feel a strong pulse growing steadily stronger. He recognized that pulse… Was this where Sephiroth’s physical body had been entombed the entire time? The one he had witnessed falling into the pool of Mako several years back? Realization slowly crept through his mind, and Vincent turned to meet Sephiroth’s figment once more. Though his eyes were still somewhat harsh, they had softened as he began to put the pieces together. He couldn’t be sure if Sephiroth had yet gained the victory over Jenova, but he could easily test that. At least from what Sephiroth had told him thus far, it seemed as though he hadn’t been speaking to Jenova at all… but Sephiroth’s true conscience. The test hadn’t been conducted by Jenova, but by Sephiroth. Perhaps Sephiroth had already broken free from Jenova long ago and the man with silver hair only feigned it up till now. The power that Jenova wielded was beyond belief—having corrupted and destroyed many planets in the past. For Sephiroth to break free of the most terrifying and manipulative entity known to humanity, it bespoke the power of will that Sephiroth possessed. It was more terrifying than Jenova herself. Who was the puppet-master, now? “I see…” Vincent mused allowed, indicating he had realized he was no longer addressing Jenova as he once thought.

This was very advantageous, yet Vincent was also aware that Jenova wouldn’t simply let go of her most valuable asset—Sephiroth. After all, she took on the form of those who the victim was closest to, someone they hated, loved, or feared. But Vincent would give Sephiroth the benefit of a doubt until those signs once again showed themselves.

Directing his attention towards Sephiroth again, he felt those piercing eyes searching his thoughts. As intrusive as it felt, in a sense Vincent wanted Sephiroth to know the truth. Perhaps it now was the time. There was a strong chance Jenova would try to thwart the effort, or Sephiroth would simply deny Vincent's request. Nevertheless, there was no better time than the present. One thing that kept tugging at Vincent's mind was what would happen if Sephiroth did agree to follow through with his request. What would be the consequences? Would he be putting Lucrecia in danger? There was a strong possibility. But keeping Lucrecia in the dark also seemed equally cruel. Sooner or later, Lucrecia would discover her son was indeed alive. What would she do then if he weren't present to protect her? How could he be sure the one he was talking to wasn't yet again Jenova just playing 5D chess and manipulating the gunslinger? And would Cloud and the others be exempt from what he was about to attempt? 'Let me see him. Just once!'

Vincent could remember hearing Lucrecia's cries towards Hojo from within the mako tank; Sephiroth had been separated from Lucrecia long before she could even hold him. Would seeing her son's face finally put her soul to rest? Or would it rip the wounds anew? Was Vincent going to deprive Lucrecia of her son's audience, also? “There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Vincent began, his pair of crimson colors meeting Sephiroth’s with an equal measure of sincerity.

“In an effort to ensure your success and safety, Jenova made me promise to be your protector. And if I failed to do so…” His brows slightly furrowed, watching Sephiroth’s reactions keenly. “She would take what I cherish most.” Vincent turned in the direction of the cave as he continued to speak.

“Do you recall telling me to venture out? To find ‘my treasure’?” His voice lowered just above a whisper. “Jenova never told you who that was, did she?” Vincent asked, assuming that Sephiroth had been cultivating the seeds of doubt long before he had sensed it. Vincent began to pace and walk passed Sephiroth, looking out in the direction of the cave. “That someone…she wishes to see her one and only treasure, as well.” He then looked over his shoulder towards Sephiroth, only exposing his profile as long black strands hid part of his face. “That treasure... is you.”

A normal human would have probably died several times by now. But even for an immortal with inhuman power, the intense journey, paired with the most violent WEAPON syphoning his energy, had rendered the gunslinger utterly drained. Even worse, the skies were burning up, signaling the end of the world, adding to the mental drain.

“Hmph… is that so?”

By this time, Vincent could feel himself reaching his energy limit. He had traveled with Sephiroth for days, barely rested in between before traveling several more days later on, backtracked for most of the distance, and then high-tailed back in almost half the time. All without resting, except for when Chaos forced him to collapse in sheer exhaustion.

Pathetic…

Moving himself to one of the rocky bordered walls, Vincent leaned his head back, allowing himself the luxury to rest for a moment. He would have to find the others soon and catch up to them. However, the one caveat was Jenova. He couldn’t tell if he was still bound to her whims. It was peculiar with the turn of events. While he had expected the planet to be nearing an end, he hadn’t anticipated for Sephiroth to engage in powerplay. Was this Jenova’s will? Or his own? Could he outsmart even Jenova herself?

The skies rumbled, and the clouds began to stir. Vincent could see the subtle hue shift and what looked to be a very bright orange glow attempting to break through the clouds. So this was Meteor… the terror of the entire planet. All created by a single black Materia. Somehow, Sephiroth had grabbed a hold of it. With how unstable Cloud had been lately, Vincent could only assume the events that took place. But did Cloud manage to escape with the others? He could only hope so. If he didn’t… he would never forgive himself.

Just as Vincent’s mind was beginning to drift into a state of slumber, Vincent’s attention was immediately arrested when he felt a dark presence approach him. There in front of him was Sephiroth—or at least Sephiroth’s appearance.

Recognizing the essence to be of Jenova, Vincent furrowed his brow, his crimson eyes scrutinizing the figure before him. He listened in complete silence. It was only afterwards that a faint scoff escaped his sealed lips. The compliment felt more like mockery.

Without saying another word, Vincent took up the bloody delivery package and sardonically threw it towards the shape-shifter’s feet. The head of Hojo rolled out of the cloth, coming to a stop at Sephiroth’s boots, glazed pallid eyes staring upward into Sephiroth’s face.

Depending on Jenova’s answer, Vincent would attempt ascertain whether or not she had lost control over Sephiroth’s will. Even if there was a good chance she would twist things around, a predator who lost control over their prey was bound to unleash revenge in some capacity.

A blight upon the face of the planet… never to plague the world anymore. How ironic.

“Hojo may be dead. But his work lives on…” The gunslinger narrowed his eyes up at the mako colored pair above him. He didn’t free Sephiroth from the clutches of the past, only. There was more to it than that. If it wasn’t clear before, it certainly was now.

“I merely eradicated your competition. Now, you can reclaim your thrown as the sole calamity upon the world.” Though his voice was measured, his eyes held contempt. He didn’t need Jenova to confirm or deny his words. Hojo had been a nuisance to Jenova, and he had just been a tool to be her hitman as it was most convenient. Sephiroth wanted closure, and a reason to test Vincent’s loyalty. At the same time, Hojo’s obsession with the Jenova project was likely a road-block that Jenova wanted removed. Two birds with one stone.

Eventually, Vincent stood up to his fullest height. Though weighed down by fatigue, he wasn’t going to entertain Jenova any more than he already had.

“The contract,” Vincent pressed, cutting to the chase. He glanced over his shoulder towards the massive barrier where Sephiroth was awakening. “I’ve kept my promise till now. But will you keep yours?” He had protected Sephiroth up to this point and it seemed his job was done.

#.Cycle of Suffering #aonemanarmy #Phantomyre Roleplay #ff7 roleplay #ff7 rp

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mischievouslittlecreature · 3 days ago

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Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy and Lucy meet a man dangerous enough to frighten them both, and Lizzie reaches a breaking point.

Word Count: 6,543

Warnings: Smut, polyamory, chronic pain, references to violence, past torture, and past sexual assault.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 2: Selfish

“Lizzie is going to be mad about that for a good long while,” Lucy commented, one hand stuffed into her trousers pocket while the other flicked ash from her cigarette down onto the cobblestones. Her eyes swiveled around, taking in the ash, flames, and glowing embers being emitted into the air by the nearby factories. All around them was the bustle of men and women going about their business, children with dirtied faces and knees marked up with scrapes and soot racing through the streets together. She dropped a few shillings into the cup of a young girl who wandered past them.

The train station that they were headed to wasn’t particularly far, and it was good for the people to see Tommy out amongst them, walking to work and taking the train like any other ordinary working man. So when they could, they made the trek to the train on foot.

She didn’t mind. It was nice to get out into the familiar smoky air, settled like a black cloud over most of Birmingham. Despite everything, it still felt like it was where she most belonged. In the dirt and flames of hell.

Though it did mean that they had to keep a professional distance from each other. No hand holding or letting their sides brush and bump. They couldn’t risk looking suspiciously close. Not even in Tommy’s own kingdom of Small Heath.

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed heavily. “But what else is fucking new?”

She cast him a regretful look. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why? You didn’t even do anything.”

“It always feels like I’m the root cause of most of her anger towards you.”

“No; you’re not.” She felt him casting her a worried look. “It’s not your fault.”

She didn’t tell him that she didn’t believe that. It would only upset him. And he didn’t need to be worrying about her feelings on top of everything else already on his plate.

“She’s mad because you tell me things that you don’t tell her.”

“Which isn’t fucking new. That’s always how things have been. If she’s only realizing that now…”

“I think she’s more upset about it being thrown in her face than anything else.”

He shook his head, teeth grinding together. “I’m going to cuff Finn the next time I see him. Jesus Christ.”

“Arthur’s right about him needing educating. The kid can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life.” As she spoke, she rolled her right shoulder back and forth, trying to ease the twinge that had settled in it. Tommy huffed.

“Yeah. I’ll put him in charge of running the football betting at the shop. Give him something productive to do.”

“Have Isiah keep an eye on him. They’re friends, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid.”

Tommy nodded. They caught the train just before it left the station, slipping into an empty compartment and closing the door, drawing down the blind that covered the window on the door, hiding them from any curious eyes that may have tried to peek in from the narrow hallway.

“May called earlier. She said that she was at a party that a couple other MPs were attending recently. One of them was asking about you,” Lucy settled into her seat, the train whistling shrilly before starting to move, steadily picking up speed as it pulled out from the station.

“Oh?”

“Oswald Mosley. He’s the MP for Smethwick. Also the Minister of the Duchy of Lancaster,” she fiddled with her rings, twisting them anxiously around her fingers. “May had…a lot of bad things to say about him.” Another throb of pain rocketed from the bottom of her shoulder blades up to the base of her neck, and she had to fight back a flinch. Fucking Luca. Dead and long gone, and yet still haunting her through the aches and pains that the torture he had put through had left.

Just like Matthew, her former fiancé and the man who instigated the gang rape that left her nearly dead and fleeing to Small Heath to escape marrying him. He too lingered with her still–despite his deceased status–through the scars he and his friends had left all over her body.

I’m part of you forever, now, his and Luca’s voices, mingled into one, whispered inside her head where they now lived.

“Lucy?” Tommy’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, his hand lightly touching her arm. She jumped a little, jerking back to life, eyes wide when they met his. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry. Just thinking. What did you say?”

His eyes narrowed a fraction, and she was pretty sure that he sensed the slight waver in her voice that she attempted to cover up. But he must have decided not to comment on it if he did.

“What does Mosley want with me?” He instead repeated patiently.

“He didn’t exactly say. But May said that he was asking an awful lot about your moral standings on things. She thought that he might’ve been trying to feel out if you would be amiable to joining the new party he’s rumored to be building.”

“The fascists, you mean?”

“Yeah.” They had been sprouting up everywhere it seemed, lately. Germany. Italy. Even in England. It was spooky. “I could do some more research into him, if you think that it would be worth it.”

Tommy considered for a moment, blue eyes glancing out the window to observe the countryside they were whizzing by. “Yes, you do that. He’s gathering information about me, it would only be fair to return the favor.”

She nodded, a hand unconsciously going up to grasp at her still aching shoulder, trying to rub away some of the pain. But she never could seem to get the right angle…

“Are your shoulders bothering you?”

She looked up to find Tommy still watching her, observant eyes zoned in on where her fingers were subtly kneading. With a sigh, she dropped her hand, rolling the aching bone and muscle back and forth with a wince. There was no use trying to lie to him.

“A little.”

His head cocked, pushing up with his hands off the seat he was slumped in across from her to instead settle in the space next to her. “Here.”

“Tommy…!” she immediately started to protest, eyes going panickedly to the blinds covering the window of the door leading into their compartment.

“Don’t worry. No one will see with the blinds closed. And we’re just passing country right now,” he nodded towards the window, which sure enough was only displaying green fields and farmland. “Let me help. If you don’t do anything for them, they’ll be killing you by this evening.”

Spoken from true experience. He’d seen her when the pain got really bad, leaving her unable to sleep or do anything other than cry and writhe, as if trying to get away from the pains wracking through nearly her entire upper back.

Slumping in defeat, she nodded, turning to angle herself with her back facing him. His large hands found her shoulders, so big they nearly swallowed the entire expanse of each one in his palms–or maybe she was just that tiny. A small sigh of relief left her lips when he began rubbing gentle but firm circles into her skin, just like how the doctor had instructed him to when explaining ways to help reduce her pain. Slowly, he started to urge the tensed up muscles to relax enough to give her some relief.

“Did you not do your stretches yesterday?” he asked. Lucy shook her head.

“Forgot.”

She was supposed to do them everyday, to avoid things like this happening so frequently. But in all the chaos yesterday, they’d completely slipped her mind. And sleeping on the hard earth with nothing but Tommy to use as a pillow probably hadn’t helped things.

“Hm. Sorry; I should’ve reminded you.”

“Not your fault.”

He pressed his fingers a little harder into her skin. “How’s that feeling?”

“Better.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Just try to relax.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

“You want me to stop?”

“...No.”

He chuckled, the first real laugh she’d heard from him since before yesterday, and rested his cheek against her hair while his hands continued to work. Lucy allowed herself to melt a little under his touch, for a moment not worrying about them getting caught together, or about Lizzie, or Michael, or the company. She was able to just rest. Even if only for a moment. All the while Tommy gently rubbed the pain from her body.

∗ ∗ ∗

She so did love to watch Tommy speak in the house.

He stood there, amidst the smoke emitting from cigarettes and pipes, glasses perched on his nose, notes held in his hand, his voice ringing out, deep and rumbling. Pretty, eloquent words. He had them all in the palm of his hand and he knew it, the men seated in the benches around him, and those in the observation area with her all clinging to his every word. And when he was finished, those on his side of the room cheered and rapped their hands approvingly against the wood of their benches, the entire room thundering with the sound.

Lucy couldn’t help but think that the room looked like a theater.

Who were they performing for? Themselves? Each other? The people in the observation booths? All of them at once? It was hard to say.

She spotted him seated to Tommy’s right–her left. In the row below Tommy’s, the third man in from the aisle. His dark hair was slicked back, the mustache that decorated his upper lip meticulously groomed. One side of his lips pulled up at something Tommy said, his eyes gleaming. Lucy felt a shiver go down her spine. Humor may have been what was intended to cross his face, but those eyes of his were dead. No emotion to be found in them at all. They remained focused straight ahead as Tommy spoke, except for one specific, notable moment, when they flickered towards the observational benches where she, along with some secretaries, journalists, and other observers, sat to watch the men speak. Lucy swore that for a second their eyes met, before she hastily looked away from him and back to Tommy. Her skin crawled, the fine, fair hairs on the back of her arms standing up straight. Her very insides seemed to recoil, every instinct within her screaming to get up and run as far away from that man as she could possibly get.

She kept her eyes glued firmly at Tommy for the reminder of the time spent in the house, despite originally going there specifically to observe Mosley.

She felt that she’d gotten all the information that she needed to about what kind of person he was from just that quick glance alone.

Soon as they were done, she stood, gathering up her notes, tucking them securely in the crook of her arm and making for the exit where she would meet Tommy out in the hall.

“How did I do?” he asked, once he found her standing at the usual spot where she always waited for him. Lucy caught herself wishing desperately that she could have pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Splendid as always, love.”

He looked away, lips twitching up slightly, clearing his throat bashfully. “Come on.”

Lucy smiled a little to herself at the reaction, falling into step beside him, heading in the direction of their office.

“Did you get what you needed?” he asked, as they walked.

“Sort of.”

His brow raised. “Sort of?” he quoted back to her.

“I don’t like looking at him,” she explained in a lowered voice. “He makes my skin crawl.”

“Mm.” Tommy hummed in agreement.

“Lord Suckerby’s secretary said you’re welcome to come by anytime between now and the end of the day to see him,” she told him just as they were interrupted by a voice calling his name from one of the open doors they passed.

They stopped, turned, and were met face to face with Oswald Mosley, a barbed smile sliding into place across his features as those empty eyes bored into Tommy. Lucy’s skin roiled in response to his posh, clipped voice when he spoke, introducing himself and holding out a hand for Tommy to shake. His sly smile never once ceased, eyes never leaving Tommy’s as he took his hand and shook it firmly.

“Let me just say, you’ve come to my attention,” the words were spoken in a croon, with the smallest of head tilts. Lucy couldn’t fully decide if the intended effect was supposed to be predatory, or seductive.

Before Tommy could reply. Mosley’s eyes had snapped, sharp and quick, like a snake striking, to fix on Lucy. She had to fight back the urge to hide behind her lover’s back. The expression on Mosley’s face turned wolfish.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” She felt Tommy tense beside her at Mosley’s words. “Oswald Mosley,” he extended his hand towards her. Lucy felt ill at the thought of touching him, but forced herself to reach out and take his hand. It was cold as ice and dry as a bone.

“Lucy Winters,” she introduced herself, shaking Mosley’s hand once before letting it go, pushing away the urge to wipe her palm on her trousers. “I’m Mr. Shelby’s assistant.”

Mosley’s eyes darted between them, one eyebrow quirking upwards, a smirk settling on his lips. “Hm. Lucky you, Mr. Shelby.”

“If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Mosley, we have to get going.”

“Yes, yes, of course. But if you aren’t too busy, I would love the opportunity to speak with you more. Perhaps over drinks?”

Tommy considered. “You can call my office,” was all he ultimately said, hastily turning on his heel and starting down the hall again. Lucy hurried after him, not wanting to be left alone with Mosley.

“You’re really going to meet with him?” she asked, once they were far enough away to be out of ear shot.

“Just to hear what he has to say.” He looked over at her. “Don’t worry, I’m not sympathetic to his cause. But keep your enemies closer, eh?”

“Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder, half expecting Mosley to appear spontaneously behind them. “He scares me a little, Tommy.” Her voice was a rough whisper, half ashamed at the omission.

“Me too.”

That got her attention, and when she looked at Tommy, she noticed something almost unsteady under the guarded armor he kept carefully in place across his eyes. Fear squeezed at her throat.

A man who was bad enough to make Tommy so frightened was something she hadn’t even thought existed.

“You head on back to the office,” he said, changing the subject with a small clearing of his throat. “I think I’ll go see Lord Suckerby now.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?” He shook his head. “I think it’ll make a stronger impression if I go see him alone.”

“You think he’ll give you any trouble?”

“Maybe. Depends on how hard he was hit by the crash.”

She frowned. She hadn’t really thought about that. Though she probably should have. “Everyone was hit by the crash.”

“Yeah.”

“If Suckerby can’t pay us…”

“He will. I’m not giving him any other choice.”

She pressed her lips together in a small smile. “I’d like first crack at him, if it comes to it.”

Tommy shot her an amused look. “Oh, is that so?”

“After seeing those photos that he wanted us to get for him, there are a couple of things I’d very much like to do to him.”

During the train ride to London she had flipped through the small package of photographs, letters, and cheques that Isiah had handed off to her while they were in Birmingham. Everything he and Aberama had collected from the man they killed in Chinatown who had been using the contents of that package to blackmail Suckerby. Her stomach had roiled at the contents of some of them, bile rising.

Lord Suckerby was one disgusting man. Maybe after he paid them, an unfortunate accident could befall him. Like falling out a window or getting run over by a bus.

Based on the thunderous, repulsed look that had crossed Tommy’s features when she showed him the photographs, Lucy thought he may very well be open to the idea. The envelope was now stashed safely in the inner pocket of her suit jacket, snug against her side. It would remain there until Suckerby paid what he owed them for their services.

“Alright,” Tommy said, eyes still dancing with fond, quiet mirth. “He doesn’t corporate, he’s all yours.”

She beamed, only just managing to restrain herself from throwing her arms around his neck, stretching up on toes, and planting a firm kiss to his temple that would have left his fair skin stained with red smudges from her lipstick. “Thank you, Tommy,” she said instead, adding what she hoped came across as a playful, affectionate lilt to her voice. He glanced over at her, one edge of his lips nudging upwards, eyes softening.

They came to a hallway splitting off into two separate directions. This was where they parted ways. Her, turning left to head to their office, him, heading right, towards where Lord Suckerby’s offices were located.

“I’ll see you soon?”

He nodded. “This won’t take long.”

“I’ll phone his office when I get in and let them know you’re coming. So they’ll be expecting you.”

“Right.”

“And then you have a few more meetings this afternoon.”

“Mm.” He lowered his voice. “I thought that we’d stay at the apartment for the night, rather than go back to Arrow House.”

“That probably would be a good idea. It’d give Lizzie some time to cool down.”

“Exactly.”

She nodded, moving to head in the direction leading to their office. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

She walked backwards a few paces, fondly watching his broad back disappear around the corner before turning and making her way the rest of the short walk back to the little corner of Parliament that they presided over.

∗ ∗ ∗

She had not been back in the office long when Tommy returned, heavy footed steps booming against the floor and swiping his fringe from his eyes.

“How did it go?” Lucy asked, looking up from her desk.

“By the time I left the room, he was screaming my name,” he thumbed a cigarette from his silver case. Lucy raised an eyebrow.

“Is that a euphemism?”

Tommy snorted, plucking out a second cigarette to hand to her. “He only had twenty thousand to give to us.”

“Really?” That wasn’t even half of the fifty thousand pounds they’d agreed upon. She placed her cigarette between her lips and leaned forward towards the flame of his lighter when he held it up for her. “Does that mean I get to play with him now?”

Tommy chuckled, raising the lighter to his own cigarette before closing it with a click. “Easy, girl. I gave him until Monday to get us the full amount.”

She pouted a little, leaning back into her chair. “You’re going soft, Shelby.”

“No,” Tommy’s eyes danced amusedly. He reached out, brushing his thumb down her cheek. It was a risky move, since anyone could walk through the door at any moment, but she didn’t pull her face away from the tender touch. “I just want my fifty thousand pounds.”

“Mm. Whatever you say, love.”

His thumb inched into dangerous territory, ghosting over her bottom lip. She aimed a playful nip at it, and he drew his hand back with a grin.

“Cheeky mare.”

Lucy smiled at him, batting her eyelashes innocently in an ‘I’m-very-sure-I-don’t-know-what-you-mean’ kind of way. Though remnants of his smile lingered on his face and his eyes remained softened fondly, Tommy’s expression turned serious again.

“Hey, make that research into Mosley top priority, yeah? I wanna be ready when I next see him.”

“Yes, boss.” She gave him a little two finger salute. The corner of his lips kicked up again.

“Thank you.”

She watched him head through the double doors into his office, leaving them open behind him, a silent invitation for her to come keep him company if she wanted. Gathering up some of her papers, she rose from her chair to follow him.

It was, after all, an invitation that she never passed up.

∗ ∗ ∗

It was dark by the time they started to pack up to leave for the day. Tommy had one final appointment, but Lucy figured she would get a head start on closing the office up while he spoke with the journalist from the London Times. She eyed Michael Levitt as Adam–Tommy’s other secretary at Westminster–led him into Tommy’s office, noting the nervous way that the journalist kept fidgeting with his hat while he waited. A moment later, Adam came back out, casting an anxious look over his shoulder to where Levitt had taken a seat in front of Tommy’s desk.

“Mr. Shelby said I was to go home,” he came over to her desk, keeping his voice lowered. She nodded.

“Then go home. I’ll take care of locking everything up.”

“Right.”

She watched him gather up his things and head for the door, one ear focused on trying to overhear the mumbled voices of Tommy and Levitt. “See you tomorrow,” she told Adam.

“Goodnight,” he nodded. Soon as he was gone, she stood smoothly, snatching up the little journal perched on the corner of her desk and going to Tommy’s office. He had left the doors open, so she was able to slip in without so much as a sound, footsteps muffled against the rugs lining the floor.

Levitt was visibly sweating, stuttering over his words. Lucy raised an eyebrow, going to where Tommy’s coat was hung up to his right behind his desk. She slipped the journal into the pocket, giving it a tap twice, watching out of the corner of her eye how Tommy’s gaze followed her. He gave a barely indiscernible nod in acknowledgement, and she spun on her heel and left the room, letting her eyes meet the timid Levitt’s for a second before turning her head away.

She flitted around her and Adam’s office, putting things away and locking them up for safe keeping, even doing some tidying. The whole time, she listened closely to the words being murmured between Tommy and the journalist. At one point, not long before Levitt rushed from the room, she heard Tommy quoting directly from some of the notes she had written in the little journal during her time spent researching Levitt and his activities.

Soon as he was gone, she locked the door behind him and went back to Tommy’s office.

“I take it that could have gone better?” she moved to stand on his side of the desk, arms folded over her chest and back leaning against the hard wooden edge. Her head cocked as she watched him rub at his eyes.

“He was asking about Campbell and Polly.”

“I heard. You want him to be taken care of?”

Tommy wetted his lips, considering. “Yes,” he decided. “Last thing we need is a reporter sniffing around.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t seem like the type that we could just pay off. I’ll have some of our boys handle it at his apartment in Maida Vale. Quick and clean.”

“Have them do it with enough flourish that it’ll make other journalists nervous. To dissuade anyone else from trying anything for a while.”

“But not easily linked to us, right?”

“Right. And let’s just keep it between you and me. Last thing I need is more temper tantrums over my not sharing information.”

“Okay.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, reaching out to smooth his hand up and down her thigh. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

His arms looped around her, and she laughed quietly when he pulled her closer, his head tipping back to stare up at her, blue eyes wide and mischievous.

“Adam went home?”

“Yes.”

“Hm…so it’s just us, then?”

Her fingers smoothed through his dark hair, fighting back a smirk. “Yes, it’s just us.”

With a purring sound from low in the back of his throat, he took hold of her hips and pulled her closer.

“Tommy!” She laughed as he maneuvered her into his lap, as if this was not something they had done dozens of times before. As if she had not let him fuck her on top of his big desk the very first day they spent in the new office, her face burying in his shoulder with her teeth sinking into the thick fabric of his suit jacket to try to keep herself quiet while his cock pounded into her.

He pushed open her suit jacket, popping free the first two buttons on her shirt and dipping his head to press his lips to the newly exposed skin. Wriggling in his lap, Lucy hissed at the feeling of his cock already hardening in his trousers, the material bulging against her.

Tangling her hands in his hair, she tipped his head back enough to kiss him, moaning softly as his hands smoothed up her thighs, urging her to rock against him and fumbling with her belt. It was late, most people working in the building would have already gone home for the evening. But they still needed to be quiet.

“Mm, did you lock the door?” Tommy asked in a low, rough murmur that went straight to her cunt, walls fluttering around nothing. The things he could do to her with just his voice alone were downright sinful.

“Yes.”

He made a noise of approval that turned her legs to jelly. “Good,” he lifted her from his lap for a microsecond to slip her loosened trousers and knickers down, hand burning hot where it slid up her exposed thigh. “Always such a good girl for me.”

“A-ah…” her head lolled back, eyes rolling both at the praise and the first brush of his thick fingers across her entrance, circling lazily around her clit.

“Gotta keep quiet, now,” he continued to mumble in her ear, breath warm where it fanned against her cheek. “Can you do that for me?”

She nodded vigorously. That was all she wanted; to be good for him. To make him happy.

Turning his head, Tommy pressed a kiss to her temple and gingerly slipped one finger into her while his thumb occupied itself with rolling over her clit. He kept his movements careful and slow until he got her more warmed up, waiting until slickness coated his hand generously before adding a second finger and increasing the pace of his pumps.

“There you go,” he hummed when he felt her start to flutter around him. “There you go, that’s a good girl…”

“Tom…” she whimpered, biting her lip to try to keep herself quiet, not wanting to disappoint him by letting any sounds slip out to be heard beyond this room.

“I know,” he soothed. “That’s my girl. Bite down on my shoulder if you need to.”

She did just that, nosing the material of his clothing aside to taste his bare skin between her lips. Tommy groaned, low and quiet but impossibly deep, at the first sting of her teeth against him. Her walls tightened, moments away from bursting. His fingers curled within her, pressing right into the spot that made her see stars.

“Let go,” he ordered in a sweet whisper aimed directly into her ear, and she bit down hard to try to hinder what would have been an incredibly loud moan as her orgasm wrecked through her like a firecracker, bright lights exploding behind her eyes, entire body shuddering with it, pressing close to him instinctively.

Tommy guided her through it, slowly coaxing her down from her high until she slumped against him.

“Good. Very good, sweetheart.”

She made a happy little noise at the praise, snuggling closer to his neck, nuzzling at the bitemark she’d left on him. Tommy stroked the back of her head, kissing her hair. Sneakily, she snaked a hand down between their bodies to palm the bulge in his trousers, and it was his turn to try to stifle his noises of pleasure, teeth locking down tight around the groan rising from his throat.

Arms wrapping around her, he lifted her seemingly effortlessly off of his lap, setting her down on the edge of his desk while he stood, hands dropping down to fumble with his trousers. Lucy felt her mouth water at the sight of his long, impossibly thick erection bobbing against his stomach after being released from its confines. Tommy gave himself a few good, languid strokes, jaw dropping open as his eyelashes fluttered, face inches from hers. Lucy spread her legs wider, encouraging him in between them. Her hands grabbed at handfuls of his suit jacket while he lined himself up, sliding in with one deep thrust.

“Oh,” Tommy rested his cheek against hers, hands flexing where they landed on her hip and thigh.

“Quiet, remember?” she teased slightly, trailing her fingertips through his hair. He shivered, letting out a breathless chuckle followed by a kiss to her cheek. Burying his face in her neck, hands bracing on her body, he started to move. She could tell that he was trying to start out slow and give her time to adjust to his considerable size, but all it took was her purposefully squeezing around his cock and wrapping her legs around his waist, and his efforts went up in smoke.

He bucked into her like a man possessed, low grunts muffled against her throat, a few trinkets rattling on the desk from the force of his thrusts. Lucy tucked her face back in against his shoulder, biting down hard on her bottom lip to try to contain her whimpers and moans as his swollen tip rubbed right up against her g-spot with each roll of his hips.

“Shit. Squeezing me so tight, love,” Tommy rasped out, hand slipping between their bodies to rub at her clit. “Give me another one, yeah? I know you can, sweetheart.”

“Mm…” Her back arched, pressing her clothed breasts into his chest. Her legs tightened around him, and her jaw clenched with the effort it was taking for her not to let the volume of her noises get too high. His cock twitched and throbbed inside her, in the way that she knew meant his orgasm was imminent. The pleasure built like steam rising in a kettle, tension mounting until she felt moments away from bursting. Her walls spasmed uncontrollably around him, as if wanting to keep him locked in place within her for all eternity. Tommy hitched her thigh up a little higher on his hip, allowing his cock to get just that much deeper into her, and applied more pressure to her clit with his thumb.

She came at the same moment that she managed to grab his face and bring his mouth crashing down onto hers, each of them swallowing what would have been massive moans as they both came fantastically. Her walls clamped down around him, insides fluttering with the force with which she came. Tommy’s chest vibrated under her palms with his growl as he finished, grinding his tip in as deep as he could go while spurting jets of seed into her.

Lucy released a blissful sigh, closing her eyes and riding out the waves of her climax while basking in the feeling of him spilling his load into her.

Tommy slumped forwards against her, face nestling in the crook of her shoulder, lips pressing to her neck delicately whilst he relaxed. His arms wound around her in a warm embrace, a quiet purr leaving his chest when she stroked the back of his head.

“We should go,” Lucy finally broke the silence that had stretched on between them. Tommy nodded, shifting to carefully pull out of her, tucking himself back into his trousers and straightening out his clothes. He plucked a handkerchief from his pocket for her to use to clean the mix of their releases from her thighs, then let her hold onto his shoulders when she hopped off the edge of the desk and regained her balance.

“Have you got everything locked up?” he asked as she pulled her slacks back up.

“Yeah, just gotta grab a few things from my desk to take with us.”

“Good. I wanna get out of here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Tommy Shelby eager to leave work? Is there a special occasion I’m not aware of?”

He rolled his eyes, giving her hip a light pinch. “No occasion.” He swiped a few locks of hair off of her forehead and cradled the back of her neck, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips while his eyes looked her up and down. There was something heated in them that made her thighs squeeze together. “Except that I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“You know, Frances, if there were to be a snap election in this house today, I wouldn’t win it. Even if I were running against the devil himself,” Tommy remarked to their housekeeper once they’d gotten home. Frances shot him a sympathetic look.

“I’d still vote for you,” Lucy offered. Tommy gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, love.”

He went off to go talk to Charlie where he was sulking in the stables while Lucy ventured upstairs, wandering through the winding hallways until she heard the hum of Lizzie and Ruby’s voices. Coming to a halt in the doorway of Ruby’s room, she watched them where they were seated together in the rocking chair by the window, Ruby in Lizzie’s lap, head resting on her mother’s chest while Lizzie read to her from a book.

“Hi, Lucy!” Ruby said when she spotted her. Lucy smiled.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Is Daddy with you?”

“He’s down at the stables.”

She let out an excited squeal, jumping off Lizzie’s lap and racing for the door.

“Ruby, what have I told you about running in the house!?” Lizzie shouted after her, but the little girl was already long gone. Lizzie rolled her eyes fondly, shaking her head and closing the book. As Lucy watched her stand to put it away on a shelf, she noticed Ruby’s suitcase laid out on the bed, half filled with clothes.

“Going somewhere?”

Lizzie sighed, glancing over at the suitcase, then back at Lucy. “I’m taking Ruby to Arthur’s.”

Lucy stared at her. “Why?”

Lizzie’s lips pulled back from her teeth. “Because, I realized this afternoon that I’d rather swallow horse shit than sit down and eat dinner with you and him.” She began to zip up Ruby’s luggage. “I need to get away. From both of you. At least for a while.”

“You could have phoned and we would’ve stayed at the apartment in London like we did last night if you really don’t want us here this weekend.”

“I don’t know if it’s going to be for just one weekend.”

Lucy straightened. “What do you mean?”

Lizzie didn't reply.

“You cannot be serious. Now, Lizzie? You want to toy around with the idea of splitting up with your husband now? Of all fucking times?”

“He made me look like an idiot at the family meeting!” Lizzie burst out, head lifting and tears in her eyes. “Everyone else knew about the bloody hit in Chinatown except for me! I am his wife! I should be informed of these things first! Especially before you!” The way that she spat out that last word, so full of hate and disgust, made Lucy flinch.

“For fuck’s sake, Lizzie! There’s a lot of shit here that you are more than justified in being unhappy about, but this? Really? This is where you draw the line?” A humorless laugh left her lips. “I hate to break it to you, but him not telling you things is a normal occurrence. Ada didn’t know about what was happening in Chinatown either.”

Lizzie looked away, irritably picking up a stuffed animal off of Ruby’s bed. Lucy took a deep breath, and when she spoke again her voice was much calmer.

“This is not worth throwing a bloody temper tantrum over, Lizzie.”

“I’m tired of being disrespected,” she lifted her head. “I’m his wife, and he needs to start treating him as such.”

Lucy groaned, raising her palms to her face, fighting back the urge to scream into them. “Just once, could you knock it off with the attitude?”

“Easy for you to say, when you always get everything that you want–”

“Oh, do I, now?” Lucy rounded on her. “You think that this,” she gestured vaguely, “is what I want? To have to share him with a woman who openly hates me?”

“I don’t hate you–”

But Lucy talked right over her. “To have to live with the constant worry that you might push me out or he might change his mind and throw me out on the street? That it could happen like that,” she snapped her fingers. “And I could lose everything? Do you think that I wanted to live with that dangling over my head at all hours of the day, Lizzie?” She met the taller woman’s stormy eyes levelly. “We’re all getting a shit deal out of this, so stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself, and make the best of it,” she moved to the door.

“You are so fucking selfish, you know that!?” Lizzie shrieked after her, finally fully exploding. “You sap up all his love for yourself and leave nothing for the rest of us! You don’t care that him spending time with you means he’s not here with his family! Those children,” she pointed towards the window that looked out to the stables, “deserve a father who prioritizes them over running after his fucking mistress.”

“Don’t you dare try to use the kids–”

“Well, somebody in this household has to advocate for them!”

“Don’t act like you aren’t just using them as a way to try to get what you want.”

Lizzie’s lips slammed into a thin line. “I’m going. And I’m taking Ruby with me.”

“But not Charlie?” Lucy challenged.

“If I thought that I could take him without Tommy tearing me apart over it, I would,” Lizzie’s voice had suddenly grown very quiet. “I’d take the two of them far away from you both and never look back.”

Lucy shook her head, exhausted. “He’s not that bad, Lizzie. Compared to what he could be? He’s not that bad at all. He doesn’t hit you. He loves those kids…” she could see from the expression of stone on Lizzie’s face that none of her words would be able to reach her, and yet she tried anyway. “He’s got so much to deal with right now. Please don’t make it worse for him.”

Lizzie continued to just stare at her with a look of both extreme sorrow and loathing, and then she picked up Ruby’s suitcase and shouldered past her without another word.

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #lucy winters #my ocs #lucy winters x tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #love me where i'm most ruined #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders oc #do you love me #lily writes #my fanfiction

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rems-writing · 21 hours ago

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The catty side of the story

》 Pairing: cat hybrid!San x cat familiar!reader

》 Genre: Fluff

》 Wordcount: 815 words

》 Rating: pg-13

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

Prompt from Illusion Net: *You realize this is the perfect weather for stories by the fire, right?*

This is an extended fic of my Kiki's Delivery Service au YunGi fic. In case anyone was confused, familiars (doesn't matter on the animal) can outlive humans and even hybrids due to their magical lifespan

Taglist: @bethelighthalazia @bunnliix @potatomountain @xomakara @acupoftaewithsomesuga

It was snowing in the quaint town with an ocean view. Since the townsfolk weren’t used to such snowy weather, they all stayed indoors, leaving Mingi’s delivery service to be on hold until the snow cleared up. Granted, he would’ve still done it since his main transportation was a broom, but then again, he had to counter in the fact that perhaps the snowy weather would intensify. The last thing Yunho, his boyfriend, wanted was to have the witch be stuck in the snow. Speaking of Yunho, he was currently staying with Mingi since the snow was so heavy that he couldn’t walk through it even if he tried. It felt like he swapped places with you since you were currently somewhere else and in that different place, you were forced to stay in until the snow cleared up. Not that you didn’t mind of course.

After all, you had a hot man to look out for you.

Choi San was a cat hybrid whom you bumped into when you were giving Yunho and Mingi some privacy as they were sharing their first kiss. In the time that you got to know him, you learned that San was adopted by the rich couple that settled down in this quaint town when they retired.

Mr. Park Seonghwa and his husband, Mr. Kim Hongjoong.

You’ve seen them around before when you went with Mingi to make deliveries, yet you’ve never seen San around before. You figured he must’ve been recently adopted, but that was beside the point. In the time that you two were together, you found yourself falling for him and were relieved when he felt the same way. When it started snowing, San was more than happy to keep you in his arms until it let up. Seonghwa and Hongjoong were more than happy to keep you around as well. They were fond of you and assured Mingi that you will be well taken care of. Currently, you were in the kitchen making hot cocoa for you and San. As you carried the mugs, you saw where he was sitting and it made you panic a bit.

He was sitting by that weird place with a huge fire blazing inside it.

Truth be told, you weren’t used to fireplaces. The only time you’d somewhat been near a fire was either near the coal furnace sitting in the corner of your master’s home or the brick oven Wooyoung used to bake bread and pastries. To have San casually laying on the couch and swishing his fluffy white tail dangerously near the fireplace made you feel a bit apprehensive. Despite the multiple assurances that he was ok, you couldn’t help but be afraid of him hurting himself.

“You do realize that this is the perfect time and weather for stories near the fire. Right, kitty?”

You chuckled nervously and nodded slowly as you neared him carefully, setting the mugs of hot cocoa down on the coffee table and sitting at a distance where you were still near him yet you were away from the fireplace. Even though you were shivering, you remained adamant in not sitting near the fire. San’s excited smile dropped when he subtly smelled the nerves on you. He sighed lightly and grabbed your waist before pulling you close to him. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed the side of your head before laying it on his chest. Hearing his steady heartbeat made you relax.

“I’ll be ok, kitty. And I’ll make sure to protect you.”

The softness and reassurance in San’s voice made your heart swell with adoration. Even though deep down, you knew you were going to outlive San, you would make sure that you spend your life with him by your side. You snuggled closer to him and left a light kiss on his jaw, to which he hummed in content since he loved those types of kisses from you.

“What tales do you want to regale, hmm? I actually want to know the story of how Mr. Mingi found you.”

You nodded in agreement before proceeding to retell the story of how you met your master. As you droned on and on, the fire dimmed down slowly yet you didn’t care. You kept talking and he kept listening. It truly was the perfect time to cozy up by the fire. When you finished, San couldn’t stop giggling and gushing about how your story was truly endearing. You blushed and thanked him for his kind words before letting out a small yawn. The warmth the fire provided left you feeling sleepy and San noticed this. He adjusted your position so your head was tucked in the crook of his neck and he could tighten his hold on you. He leaned down to whisper one final thing in your ear before you dozed off.

“Happy holidays, kitty. I love you.”

#mirohsaurorasociety #other side outlaws network #illusionnet #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #kiki's delivery service

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ghostlyglimmer · 3 days ago

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Happy Phandom Truce @five-rivers ! I decided to do an undercover agent at Casper High! Happy Holidays I hope you like it 💚

The hallways of Casper High buzzed with the usual chaos between classes—students rushing to their next period, lockers slamming, and snippets of conversations blending into an endless hum. Wes Weston, however, wasn’t paying attention to any of it. He pressed himself tightly against the cool wall of a corner, peeking around it with laser focus. His target was just a few feet away.

The hidden earpiece in his ear buzzed with static before the sharp voice of a Ghost Investigation Ward (GIW) agent cut through.

“Agent Weston, report. Do you have the target in sight?”

Wes rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, I’ve got him.” He shifted to get a better look, careful not to be seen.

There, standing near his locker, was Danny Fenton. The kid was holding a cheap, rainbow-colored fidget spinner, grinning ear to ear as it floated a foot off his palm, spinning in the air. No tricks. No strings. Just hovering there like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Wes’s jaw dropped. He instinctively pulled back behind the corner, his heart hammering in his chest.

Danny turned to his friends, Sam Manson and Tucker Foley, his excitement barely contained. “Guys, look at this! I finally figured it out! I can keep it spinning without it breaking!”

“Dude!” Tucker hissed, darting a glance down the hallway. “What are you doing? We’re at school! People can see you!”

Sam didn’t even look up from her phone. “Yeah, Danny, great idea. Use your ghost powers out in the open. Real genius move.”

Danny shrugged, the spinner still rotating effortlessly in midair. “Relax, nobody’s paying attention.”

Tucker frowned, scanning the hallway again, but his eyes widened when he caught sight of Wes peeking from around the corner. His face paled. “Uh, Danny? We’ve got a problem.”

Sam followed his gaze and immediately locked eyes with Wes. Her lips curled into a smirk. She raised her hand and, in one fluid motion, gave him the middle finger, her expression daring him to do something about it.

Wes’s earpiece crackled again. “Agent Weston, confirm: is there ghostly activity? Report immediately!”

Panic flared in Wes’s chest. He ducked further behind the corner, flattening himself against the wall as his thoughts raced. Danny Fenton was using ghost powers—ghost powers—in the middle of Casper High. He was definitely Phantom. This was it. This was the proof he needed.

But… was it?

His memories flickered to all the times Fenton—or Phantom, as he now realized—had helped during ghost attacks. There’d been moments where Wes had barely escaped danger, only for Phantom to swoop in and save the day. He hated the smug attitude, but did that really make Danny the bad guy?

“Agent Weston! Respond!”

The sharp voice jolted him. His hand shook as he reached for the earpiece. “I—uh—no activity,” he blurted out. “It’s… it’s nothing.”

He could almost hear the agent on the other end frowning. “Are you sure? Target must be identified—”

“I said it’s nothing!” Wes hissed, ripping the earpiece out of his ear and stuffing it into his pocket.

“Yo, Wes!” Tucker’s voice called out from around the corner, too casual to be innocent. “You doing okay over there?”

Wes froze, his stomach sinking. Slowly, he leaned out from behind the wall. Tucker, Sam, and Danny were all staring at him now. Danny’s expression was sheepish, but Sam’s glare was sharp enough to cut steel. Tucker wore a nervous grin, but the way he adjusted his PDA told Wes he was ready for whatever might come next.

“What’s your problem, Weston?” Sam asked, folding her arms and cocking her head to the side. Her tone was light, but her eyes dared him to make a move.

Wes’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. What was he supposed to say? That he’d been sent to spy on them by a shady government agency that wanted to dissect their best friend?

“Uh, nothing,” Wes stammered, stepping back. “Just… forgot my locker combination.”

“Sure you did,” Sam muttered, rolling her eyes. “You keep lurking around corners, and you’re gonna have a real problem.”

“Big one,” Tucker added, tapping his PDA ominously.

Danny just gave him an awkward half-smile and a tiny wave before turning back to his friends. Wes ducked down the hallway and hurried away before anyone could say anything else.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to tell the GIW. He wasn’t even sure what he thought anymore. All he knew was that if he turned Danny in, he’d have to deal with more than just a couple of angry friends. And something told him Sam wasn’t bluffing.

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snowysosturn · 15 hours ago

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Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 28

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28

Pairing : Y/n x dealer!Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, angst, cursing, mentions of death, mentions of murder, mention of guns, description of murder, description of shooting, description of dead body, arguments

The room felt suffocating after we watched the footage. It was as if all the air had been sucked out, leaving nothing but a heavy, oppressive silence. My hands were trembling, still resting on the keyboard where I’d paused the video. The image of Vince standing over Danny’s lifeless body was frozen on the screen, but it was seared into my mind.

I forced myself to breathe, in and out, but the weight in my chest wouldn’t ease. Turning to look at the others, I saw their reactions mirrored my own. Chris stood behind me, his face pale and his jaw clenched tight enough to crack. His eyes were glued to the screen, a storm of rage and disbelief swirling in their depths.

Willow sat on the edge of the couch, her head bowed and her hands clasped together like she was praying. She looked like she might be sick. Nate was the only one moving, pacing back and forth across the room like he was trying to outrun the images we’d just witnessed.

No one said anything for a long time. The silence was unbearable, but none of us seemed to know how to break it. Finally, I closed down the computer, shutting off the horrific scene but not the emotions that came with it.

“That bastard” Nate spat, stopping his pacing to glare at the now-blank screen. “He didn’t even hesitate.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “He-he just killed him. Like it was nothing.”

Chris turned away from the screen, rubbing a hand over his face.

Willow let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know how you guys deal with this. How you’ve been dealing with it. This is..this is so much worse than I thought.”

“It’s not just Danny” I said, my voice trembling but steadying with each word. “If we’ve seen this, imagine how much worse Vince has done that we don’t know about. You could’ve ended up like this too Chris. He’s dangerous, and if we don’t do something, he’ll keep getting away with it.”

Chris moved closer to me, his voice low. “I know this is a lot to take in, but you’re right. We can’t stop now. This is our chance to take him down.”

I looked at him, my chest tightening at the pain and determination in his expression. He was trying to be strong, but I could see the cracks forming beneath the surface.

“We need to talk about what happens next” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “For now, Chris, it’s not safe for you to leave this place. Vince has people everywhere, and if they see you, it’s game over. You have to stay here.”

Chris looked up at me, his jaw tightening. “You’re saying I just sit here while the rest of you go back and forth, putting yourselves at risk? I can’t-”

“You have to.” I interrupted firmly. “If Vince realizes you’re alive, all of this falls apart. He’ll come after you, and he won’t hesitate. You staying here isn’t just about your safety, it’s about giving us a chance to end this.”

Willow nodded in agreement. “Y/n’s right. This place is out of the way, and no one knows you’re here. It’s the safest option, for now.”

Chris exhaled. “And what about the rest of you?“

We’ll be careful” Nate said, his voice firm. “We’ll keep our heads down, do what we need to do, and get out. Besides..” He hesitated, his eyes narrowing in thought. “When the rest of the Crimson Cartel sees that footage, sees what Vince did to Danny, they’ll turn on him. You know how much Danny meant to everyone.”

Chris nodded slowly, his expression darkening. “None of the guys in the footage were part of Crimson. They weren’t our people. But Danny.” His voice broke slightly, and he looked away.

“Everyone loved him” I said softly, reaching for Chris’s hand. “When they find out Vince is behind his death, they won’t stand by him. They’ll turn.”

Chris finally nodded, his grip tightening on my hand. “Fine. I’ll stay. But promise me you’ll all be careful out there. I can’t-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I just can’t lose anyone else.”

“You won’t” I said firmly. “We’ve got this. We’re going to end this.”

Willow stood up, brushing off her hands. “Well, if that’s settled, I’m making a list of what we’ll need for the back and forth trips. Food, clothes, maybe even disguises for when we’re in Boston.”

Chris snorted softly, the faintest trace of a smile appearing. “Disguises? What, are we pulling a heist now?”

Willow smirked. “If the shoe fits.”

The mood lightened just a little, and for the first time in what felt like hours, I saw a hint of hope in Chris’s eyes. We weren’t out of the woods yet, but at least we had a plan. And as long as we stuck together, I believed we could see it through.

The first rays of sunlight started peeking through the curtains, and the exhaustion of the night finally caught up with all of us. Willow was the head to bed, stretching her arms over her head and muttering something about getting at least a couple of hours of sleep before her brain gave out.

“I think we all need it” I said, standing up. My legs felt like jelly, and my head pounded from the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through me all night.

Willow and Nate had already disappeared into their rooms, leaving Chris and I standing in the dimly lit living room. I placed a hand on his arm. “You should sleep too. We’ll figure everything out in the morning, or, well, later today.”

He gave me a faint smile, brushing his thumb across my knuckles before heading toward our room.

Once he was gone, I set an alarm for 10am and followed him toward our room, flopping onto the bed. My body was begging for rest, but my mind raced with everything that lay ahead.

By now, I’d practically abandoned my college routine. The thought of catching up on my workload made my chest tighten with anxiety, but I clung to the hope that my professor would understand. Surely, with the information I had to share, he’d see why I’d been so preoccupied.

Before I could spiral too far, I made a mental note to ask Nate in the morning if he wanted to drive back to Boston with me.

I stared at the ceiling for a long moment before finally closing my eyes. The sun was almost fully risen now, casting a soft glow through the window, but for the first time in days, I let myself give in to the pull of sleep.

The buzz of my alarm startled me awake, yanking me from a restless sleep. For a moment, I stared at the ceiling, disoriented, until everything from the night before came rushing back. I groaned softly, rolling over to check my phone. It was already 10:15. I’d snoozed my alarm more times than I realized.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. The reflection in the mirror was a harsh reminder of the toll this week had taken, dark circles ringed my eyes, and my hair was a mess. I looked like I’d been through hell, and in a way, I had.

By the time I made my way into the kitchen, the smell of coffee greeted me. Nate was already there, leaning against the counter with a steaming mug in hand. He looked equally worn out, his usual energy dulled by the weight of the situation.

“Morning” he muttered, his voice rough.

“Morning” I replied, grabbing a mug and pouring myself a cup. The first sip was bliss, the caffeine slowly tricking my body into a false sense of alertness.

We stood in silence for a while, the events of the past 24 hours hanging heavily in the air. It was Nate who finally broke it. “What’s the plan today?”

“I need to head back to Boston” I said. “I left my laptop at home, and I have to figure out what to say to my professor. At this rate, I’ve probably fallen so far behind, but... I don’t know, maybe if I explain some of this, he’ll cut me some slack.”

“You think you’ll tell him everything?” Nate asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Not everything,” I said quickly. “Just enough to make it clear that I’ve been dealing with something serious. I’ll frame it around the legal side of things, like how I’m trying to help someone navigate.. a dangerous situation.”

Nate nodded, considering my words. “I’ll drive you back” he offered.

“You sure? You’ve barely slept.”

“So have you” he countered. “Besides, it’s better if we stick together for now. You don’t need to be traveling alone, not with everything that’s going on.”

I gave him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks.”

As we got ready to leave, I grabbed my burner phone from the counter and hesitated. “I think I’ll leave this here” I said, placing it back down. “I don’t want to risk bringing it into the city.”

“Smart move” Nate said, already heading for the door. I made sure I had the USB in my pocket and followed him out.

The drive back to Boston started in silence, both of us too drained to muster small talk. I stared out the window, watching the trees blur into the cityscape as we approached the familiar streets. The normalcy of it all felt jarring. How could everything look so unchanged when my entire world had been flipped upside down?

“You doing okay?” Nate asked, his voice breaking through my thoughts.

I turned to him, offering a faint smile. “Define ‘okay.’”

He smirked faintly, his eyes still on the road. “Fair point.”

“Thanks for driving me” I said after a beat.

“Don’t mention it” he said. “You’ve been holding up pretty damn well through all this, you know.”

I let out a dry laugh. “If by ‘holding up,’ you mean barely keeping it together, then sure.”

Nate glanced at me briefly, a rare softness in his expression. “You’re tougher than you think. Not many people would have stuck around, let alone tried to help us the way you have.”

The unexpected compliment made my cheeks warm. “Thanks, Nate. That means a lot coming from you.”

When we finally pulled up to my house, I felt a strange mix of relief and unease. It had only been over 12 hours since I’d been home, and stepping out of the car felt surreal, like I was returning to a life that no longer fit.

“I’ll check in with my professor and try get a meeting with him today” I told Nate as I unbuckled my seatbelt. “Do you want to meet me back here at 5pm?”

“Yeah” he said with a nod. “We can head back then.”

“Alright. Stay safe, okay?”

“You too.”

I watched him drive off before turning to face the front door of my house. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside. I made my way to the kitchen, where my normal phone sat abandoned on the counter. Picking it up, I unlocked the screen, only to be met with a flurry of missed notifications. Emails, texts, and calendar reminders from college flooded my home screen, each one a stark reminder of how much I’d let slip through the cracks.

Ignoring the overwhelming wave of responsibility, I opened Google and searched for my professor's office phone number. Professor Hawkins was one of the few people I trusted, someone who had always been approachable and understanding. If anyone could offer guidance without prying too much, it was him.

I hesitated for a moment, my thumb hovering over his office number. What would I even say? How could I explain everything without giving too much away?

Taking a deep breath, I tapped the number and held the phone to my ear. It rang twice before a familiar, warm voice answered.

“Professor Hawkins speaking.”

“Hi, Professor. It’s Y/n Y/l/n..” I said, trying to steady my voice.

“Y/n! I was wondering when I’d hear from you. You’ve been absent from class for over a week, is everything alright?”

“Sort of..” I said, my words faltering. “I’ve been dealing with.. a complicated situation. I was hoping I could meet with you to explain and maybe get some guidance on how to move forward. It’s related to my studies, well, partly, but it’s also personal.”

There was a pause on the other end, and I held my breath, worried he might dismiss me outright.

“Of course” he said finally. “I have some time this afternoon. Would 2pm work for you?”

Relief flooded through me. “Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you so much professor.”

“Not a problem, Y/n. I’ll see you in my office at 2.”

As I hung up, I leaned against the counter, exhaling deeply. This was a step forward, a small one, but forward nonetheless.

I grabbed my laptop from my desk and slipped it into my bag along with a notebook. My

After double checking that I had everything I needed, I locked up the house and headed to campus.

Chris’s POV

The morning light seeped through the thin curtains of the Airbnb, casting a golden hue across the room, I sat up, rubbing my face to shake off the remnants of sleep. My mind was still clouded by the events of last night. But now, there was an absence I couldn’t ignore. Y/n wasn’t next to me. I got up and made my way to the living room.

“Morning” Willow’s voice broke the silence as she stepped into the room, a mug of coffee in hand. She was already dressed, looking far more put together than I felt.

“Morning? It’s 2pm..” I muttered, glancing toward the hallway. “Where’s Y/n? And Nate?”

“They left early. Y/n needed to take care of some things back in Boston, and Nate’s her chauffeur for the day.” She smirked, taking a seat in one of the armchairs.

I frowned, the thought of Y/n leaving without a word twisting in my chest. “Did she say anything before she left?”

“Something about needing to talk to her professor” Willow said, waving her hand dismissively. “Relax, she’ll be back. You’re not gonna lose her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I huffed, leaning back against the couch.

Anyway, how’re you holding up after last night?”

I glanced at her, debating how honest I wanted to be. “It’s a lot. Seeing that footage, knowing what Vince did.. it just makes me feel like...” I trailed off, shaking my head. “I don’t even know what I feel. Anger? Guilt? Fear? All of it, I guess.”

Willow nodded, sipping her coffee. “Yeah, it’s a lot to process. You’re not the only one who’s scared, though. We all are.”

I tilted my head, studying her. “How’d you and Nate not lose your minds waiting for the cops to clear last night? Four hours is a hell of a long time to sit in a car.”

Her lips curved into a sly smile. “Oh, we found ways to pass the time.”

I blinked, the suggestive tone in her voice catching me off guard. “Wait a second.. Are you saying-”

Willow cut me off with a laugh. “I’m not saying anything. But, hypothetically, if I were, it’s none of your business, Chris.”

I smirked, leaning forward. “You like him, don’t you?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. “Nate’s.. different. He’s got this rough exterior, but underneath all that, he’s a good guy. And, well, spending hours in close quarters tends to make you notice things.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Who would’ve thought? You and Nate.”

Willow shrugged, setting her mug down. “Enough about me. What about you? You’ve been glued to Y/n ever since this whole mess started. It’s pretty obvious you’re head over heels for her.”

“Yeah, I love her. I’m not gonna deny that.”

Willow’s gaze softened. “It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?”

I nodded, exhaling slowly. “I want to be with her for the rest of my life. I know that sounds crazy, especially with everything going on, but it’s the truth. She’s the one, Willow. And I want to make that clear, not just now, but when this is all over.”

Willow smiled, her expression unexpectedly kind. “You’re a good guy, Chris. And she knows it. She wouldn’t be here, sticking by you through all this, if she didn’t feel the same way.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, filling me with a mix of hope and determination. “Thanks” I said, my voice quieter.

“Don’t thank me yet” Willow teased, standing up. “Just don’t screw it up, alright?”

I chuckled, the tension in my chest easing slightly. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m bored without social media.. Want to make burner Instagram accounts?” Willow suggests.

Y/n’s POV

By the time I arrived on campus, my stomach was in knots. This wasn’t just about legal theory or hypotheticals. This was real, messy and dangerous. I smoothed my blazer, took a deep breath, and knocked twice.

“Come in” his deep voice called.

I stepped inside, my hands gripping the strap of my bag. Professor Hawkins was at his desk, glasses perched on his nose as he reviewed a thick stack of papers. He looked up, and his sharp, analytical gaze met mine.

“Miss Y/l/n” he said, gesturing for me to sit. “It’s nice to see you! I was beginning to think you’d dropped out of my class.”

“I know, I’m sorry..” I admitted, lowering myself into the chair. “I’ve had some personal matters to deal with, but I’m here because I need your guidance.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“There’s a situation I’ve gotten involved in, a dangerous one” I began carefully. “It’s about a criminal operation in Boston. I have evidence, but I’m scared to go to the police because it could put me and the people I care about in danger.”

At that, his expression sharpened, and he leaned forward. “Go on.”

“It’s about Vince Moretti..” I said, watching for a reaction. His eyes narrowed slightly, and I knew I had his attention.

“Moretti” he echoed, his tone measured. “I’ve been looking for a way to dismantle his operation for years. The drug feud in Boston is destroying lives, but no one talks. Everyone is either too scared or too loyal to open up. If you have evidence, Miss Y/l/n, you might have what we need to take him down.”

Hearing that sent a chill through me. “I have video footage of Moretti committing murder..” I said quietly. “But I need to do this in a way that keeps me out of it. The people I care about, they’re already too close to all of this.”

Hawkins studied me for a moment before nodding. “There was a raid at the docks last night, but my contacts in law enforcement have been quiet, which means they don’t know exactly who it's linked to or they’re keeping what they did find under wraps. If you have something concrete, it needs to stay quiet. The last thing you want is for Moretti to catch wind of it before law enforcement can act.”

“I understand” I said. “This evidence could be the turning point, but I can’t afford for it to lead back to me. Can you help?”

I paused, suddenly realizing how much trust I was putting in Hawkins by sharing this information. I couldn’t afford to make a mistake, not with so much on the line. My hand instinctively went to my bag, and I pulled out the small, nondescript USB drive.

“I.. I have the footage with me” I said, my voice steady despite the knot tightening in my stomach. “It’s all on here. What happened with Vince and Danny.. the moment Vince killed him.”

Hawkins raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. He didn’t seem surprised, though his gaze flicked briefly to the USB in my hand. He held out his hand, and I hesitated for a moment before passing it to him.

He examined the drive, turning it over in his fingers as if weighing the decision on what to do next. “You’re sure this footage is unaltered? No editing or manipulation?”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It’s untouched. I’ve kept it safe.”

Hawkins didn’t say anything for a moment. He seemed to be processing, considering what he was about to dive into. Finally, he spoke.

“Alright. I’ll take a look at it. But you understand this is a delicate situation. If this footage confirms what you say, then we’re dealing with a murder, and Moretti won’t let it slide easily. His influence is far reaching, and the moment this gets out.. it won’t just be you at risk.”

“I know” I said quietly. “But I can’t just sit back anymore. This needs to be dealt with, and I need to know I did everything I could to stop him. For my own peace of mind, and for the people I care about.”

He nodded, his eyes softening just a fraction. “I get it. I’ll keep this in safe hands. But you need to prepare yourself. There’s no going back once this is in motion.”

“I’m ready” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I truly was.

Hawkins gave me a sharp nod before getting up and walking to his desk, plugging the USB into his computer. As the screen came alive with the footage, I stood frozen, feeling the weight of what was to come. My heart beat louder in my chest, knowing that once the truth was revealed, there would be no turning back.

After a few moments, Hawkins turned to face me. “This is solid. You’ve done well to get this footage. But now the hard part begins.”

“I know” I whispered, my stomach twisting.

Hawkins leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly on the desk as he thought. After a long silence, he looked at me, his expression serious.

“You know, Y/n..” he said, voice low but steady, “There’s a way we can handle this without you directly being involved. If we go about it anonymously, if we can release this evidence to the right people without your name attached, then the state can take it from there. We get the authorities involved, and it’s their job to pursue it, not yours.”

I blinked, my mind spinning at the possibility. "You mean.. you think we could turn this over without anyone finding out it was me who gave them the footage?"

“Exactly” Hawkins confirmed, leaning forward, his gaze unwavering. “If we can make sure no one knows where this evidence came from, if we keep your identity out of it entirely, then the state can arrest Vince without putting you or your loved ones at risk. You won’t be the one in the line of fire.”

I let out a breath, feeling a sliver of relief. The weight of what he was offering began to sink in. I’d been terrified, every day, that my involvement would make me a target, or worse, put Chris, Nate, and Willow in harm's way too. The thought of remaining anonymous, of not having to watch my every step, was a relief. But at the same time, it felt like I was still hiding from the truth.

“So, how would we even get this to the right people without anyone knowing?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the logistics of it all.

Hawkins raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed by my willingness to question the plan. “There’s a network. I have a few connections in law enforcement who are more than willing to work discreetly. We can get the footage into the hands of the right people who’ll work behind the scenes to make sure Vince is arrested, while keeping everything under wraps. But you need to understand, once this is out there, it can’t be retracted. If it leaks or anyone catches wind of who helped, it could undo everything.”

I nodded slowly, processing the risk. It seemed like the perfect solution. It would protect me, Chris, and everyone else involved, while still putting Vince away.

“I understand” I said, feeling the weight of his words. “But how do we make sure it goes through? How do we ensure that it doesn’t get buried or lost in the system?”

Hawkins smiled faintly, though his eyes remained sharp. “That’s where I come in. I’ll make sure it gets to the right people, the ones who are beyond Vince’s reach. But you need to trust me on this. If you want to keep this as clean and anonymous as possible, you can’t be involved directly from here on out. It’s going to take time, and it’s going to require patience, but in the end, it’ll be worth it.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling in. If I did this, if I let Hawkins handle it from here,I would be taking the risk of putting everything in his hands. But at the same time, it was the only way I could be sure that the right thing was done, without endangering myself or the people I loved.

“You have my trust” I said quietly. “I’ll let you handle it. I just want Vince gone. I want him out of our lives.”

Hawkins nodded, his expression firm. “I’ll do everything I can to make that happen. I’ll get the ball rolling right away. But remember, you can’t talk about this to anyone. Not even your closest friends. The less you say, the safer you’ll be.”

“I get it” I whispered, my heart racing. “Thank you, Professor Hawkins. I don’t know what else to say. Just.. please make sure this works.”

“I will” he said, voice steady and confident. “Now go. I’ll handle the rest from here.”

I left his office with a heavy heart but a renewed sense of hope. This was the right move, the only way to stop Vince without risking everything. I finally felt like I could breathe, if only for a moment. The end was in sight.

–

By 5pm, I was standing at the window, waiting for Nate to arrive. The sound of a car pulling into my driveway snapped me out of my thoughts, knowing we were about to head back into the chaos once again.

I grabbed my things and stepped outside, walking toward the car quickly before getting in.

"Did you get to talk to your professor?" Nate asked, his expression a little more serious than usual, probably from everything that had gone down recently.

"Yeah" I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But I got a call from him again about thirty minutes ago. The police have the footage now, but.. Vince is nowhere to be found since the raid last night. They can trace everything back to him, but without him in custody, it's like a waiting game."

Nate's expression shifted, brows furrowing. "That’s.. not good. So, they’ve got everything, but no Vince?"

"Exactly" I replied.

Nate’s grip on the wheel tightened, and his jaw set as he drove. "This isn’t good" he muttered under his breath, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror as if expecting someone to be following. "The whole point of getting this footage was to put the pressure on Vince, but if he’s nowhere to be found.." He trailed off, frustration clear in his voice.

I could see the wheels turning in his mind. He was never one to be idle when something was wrong, and the thought of Vince slipping through their fingers was eating away at him.

"Maybe he’s hiding" I suggested, though it didn’t feel like much of an answer. "He’s got resources, people who could help him disappear, but they're probably piecing things together, hoping someone will slip up, reveal his whereabouts, but right now.. it’s just a matter of time. Professor Hawkins said once there’s an arrest, it’ll be all over the news" I added, my voice laced with uncertainty.

"Yeah, I know" Nate growled. "But it’s not just that. He’s smart enough to keep a low profile. If the cops can’t find him now, it means he’s pulling strings, keeping his head down, and the longer he does that, the longer it’ll be before he’s found. It’s like we’re chasing a shadow."

Nate stayed silent for a while, focusing on the road. "I just don’t know how much longer we can wait for that. We need him caught now. If we wait too long, everything’s going to fall apart." His words were sharp, frustration lacing each word.

"Well.." I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "the cops are looking. They’re not going to stop just because Vince’s gone to ground. We need to trust that they’ll catch up with him. We’ve done everything we can. And we need to make sure we just lay low now."

When we finally pulled into the driveway of the Airbnb, stepped out of the car, still processing everything that had happened with Professor Hawkins, and headed toward the front door, Nate trailing closely behind me.

As we walked inside, the soft murmur of voices filled the air. Willow was in the kitchen, scrolling on her burner and Chris was lounging on the couch, his expression neutral but tired. When he saw us, he sat up straighter, his eyes immediately locking on mine.

"How did things go?" he asked, his voice low, his gaze flickering between me and Nate.

I nodded, taking a seat at the table. "We’ve got good news and bad news" I started, trying to keep my voice steady. "The footage is in the right hands, and Vince can be linked to everything, but.. he’s gone."

"Yeah" Nate added, rubbing the back of his neck. "The police can’t find him, and he’s laying low since the raid. No one knows where he is. They can’t even get close to him right now."

Willow frowned, putting down the papers she was holding. "That’s not great" she said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest. "But at least we’re making progress, right?"

"Not enough" Nate replied, his frustration clear. "We don’t have time to wait around for Vince to come out of hiding" Nate muttered. "We need to do more. We need him behind bars sooner, not later."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "The police have the footage. There’s nothing more we can do right now. We just have to be patient."

He let out an exasperated breath, pacing around the living room. "Patient? Patience isn’t going to get him behind bars! He’s slipping through the cracks, and we're just standing here, waiting for him to screw us over again."

"I know you're angry" I said, trying to keep my voice calm, "but there’s nothing we can do to force their hand right now. If we make any noise, it'll mess everything up. The best thing we can do is stay silent and let the police handle it."

Nate stopped pacing and glared at me. "Stay silent? We’ve been silent this whole time, Y/n!"

I could hear the frustration in his voice, and I understood. We’d all been waiting for something, anything to happen. But rushing things now would only make it worse.

"We're not doing nothing" I said, my tone softer but firm. "We’ve done everything we can. We got the footage, we tipped the cops off, and now it’s in their hands. Vince is running out of options. He’ll slip up. He has to."

Nate crossed his arms over his chest, still scowling “I’m going to bed.” Shaking his head as he made his way down the hallway toward one of the bedrooms. I could tell he was still seething with anger, unable to let go of the frustration that had built up. I didn’t blame him, but for now, we all needed a break.

Willow and I plopped down on the couch next to Chris, flipping through TV channels to put a news channel on, in case any news broke. The silence between us was tense, each of us processing everything in our own way. Every update on the news made my stomach twist tighter. No word on Vince yet. But we kept watching, hoping for some shift that would give us more clarity.

Willow shifted beside me. "You know" she said, breaking the silence, "Chris and I set up burner Instagram accounts today while you were talking to Hawkins."

I glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You did?"

She nodded, her lips quirking into a smile. "Yeah. I thought it might be useful, you know, staying low key while we keep track of things. Still having some sense of normality."

"Good thinking" I said, reaching for my phone. "Guess I’ll set one up too then."

We sat there, the murmurs of the TV in the background, as Chris and Willow helped me create a burner account. It didn’t take long, and soon enough, I was scrolling through random pages, looking at reels.

Time seemed to stretch on as we sat there, clicking through posts, our minds occupied with the task but constantly flicking back to the news, half expecting to see something break. The quiet ticking of the clock felt like it was counting down to something, but we had no idea what.

After about an hour, the silence in the room was finally broken by Chris. He leaned forward, his eyes glued to his phone screen, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Theres no fucking way" Chris muttered under his breath. His voice was a mix of disbelief and anger.

Willow and I exchanged a glance, both leaning in, asking in unison, "What’s wrong?"

Chris's fingers moved rapidly across the screen as he scrolled through, shaking his head in frustration. "I was being nosey" he said, his voice tight. "I was checking out one of the H Block guys’ pages. They-"

His words were cut off as he turned the screen toward us, and my heart dropped into my stomach. There it was. The footage.

The grainy, shaky camera work was unmistakable, the same one we'd watched hours ago on that USB, only now it was out there in the world. The caption above it was a slap to the face: "Crimson scum, killing your own 🐀"

My breath hitched in my chest, and I felt Willow’s eyes on me as my stomach twisted. I felt sick, my hands trembling as I reached for the phone to get a closer look. But even before I could process it all, my mind was racing. This could change everything.

"Shit" Willow breathed, leaning back into the couch. "This is bad. This is really bad."

Chris exhaled sharply, his eyes dark with anger and disbelief. "Yeah. And it's all over Instagram now.”

"How did they get this?" I whispered, the question more to myself than anyone else.

The tension in the room was palpable, thick with the weight of the unspoken truth. Chris jumped up from the couch, his legs moving before his mind fully caught up with the frustration building inside him. "No" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as if to convince himself that this wasn’t real. "There’s no fucking way..."

But as soon as he moved toward the hall, the door to one of the bedrooms creaked open, and there stood Nate, leaning against the doorframe. He was holding his phone, his expression unreadable as he watched Chris’s every move. The moment their eyes locked, I felt the air get even heavier. Something was about to snap.

Chris’s voice was low, simmering with anger. "You fucking leaked it, didn’t you?" he demanded, his gaze hard as steel.

Nate didn't flinch. He just stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, staring at Chris with a mixture of defiance and coldness.

“I did what I had to do" Nate said through clenched teeth, his voice low and almost challenging. "You think I’m just gonna sit here while Vince gets away with everything? While Danny’s gone? I had to do something."

Chris shook his head, pacing in frustration. "You think that’s the way to fix things? You put everything at risk. Everything we've been working toward. Y/n told you to stay quiet, and you fucking ignored her." He stopped, turning to face Nate with a look of disbelief. "You could have trusted us, man. We could’ve handled this the right way."

Nate’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "The right way? There is no ‘right way’ when it comes to this shit, Chris. I didn’t make this mess, but I’ll be damned if I sit around waiting for Vince to tear apart everything we’ve been working for. Crimson’s not just gonna sit on their hands, pretending like everything’s fine. They needed to know-"

"That’s not how you do it!" Chris interrupted, his voice rising. "You don’t just act on impulse, you don’t just go and leak shit to a rival gang, especially not with the people we care about in danger. What if someone tracks it back to us? What if this blows up in our faces?"

"Then so be it" Nate shot back, his voice colder now. "I don’t care anymore. I just want Vince to pay for what he did. I want him gone." He hesitated, his gaze flickering to me and Willow on the couch. "I had to make a move. So I sent it to H Block. They don’t know it was me, but they’re gonna spread it around, and then Crimson won’t have any choice but to turn on Vince. They’ll start talking, and then he’ll be the one running, not us."

Willow shifted beside me, her eyes wide as she watched the back and forth between the two. Chris’s face was flushed with anger, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was trying to stay calm, but the frustration was evident.

"You’re out of your fucking mind, Nate" Chris spat, his voice barely containing the fury he was feeling. "What the hell made you think that was the right call? You really don’t get it, do you? We were trying to handle this quietly, trying to get Vince without anyone else getting hurt. And you go and throw all that out the window. Just like that."

Nate didn’t flinch. "And if I hadn’t done it? Vince would still be out there, laughing at us, thinking he can do whatever he wants. You really think I was just gonna sit back and watch that happen? Watch people we care about get hurt while I did nothing?"

The two of them were standing there, inches apart now, the tension thick enough to choke the air around us. I could see both of them on the verge of snapping, both holding on to their frustrations in the same clenched fists. I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, the sound of a breaking news report cut through the silence, pulling all of our attention to the TV in the corner of the room.

"Breaking news from Boston." the anchor's voice rang out. "Authorities have confirmed that a known leader of one of Boston's major drug gangs has been arrested, on the outskirts of Massachusetts. The arrest comes following the discovery of shocking footage implicating him in a recent murder of a close affiliate related to the feud. The footage comes a day after a raid near the docks late last night, which is now being linked back to this gang."

The words hung in the air and for a split second, it felt like the room itself froze. My heart started to race as the news anchor continued. A mixture of panic and relief.

“Wow, maybe that is how you do it” Willow whispers under her breath, only loud enough for me to hear.

Chris’s voice broke prominent silence, shaky but determined. "He’s gone. This is it."

Nate, still standing with his arms crossed, didn’t respond right away. His eyes were glued to the screen, his expression unreadable. "Yeah" he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "It’s done. Vince is done."

But despite the relief that seemed to come with hearing about Vince’s arrest, it was clear from Nate’s tone that it didn’t feel like a victory, not yet.

Chris and Nate made their way back to the couch. We all sat there, glued to the screen, waiting for any further details.

I knew this wasn’t over yet, but at least it was a start.

a/n: 2 more parts

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seastarblue · 3 days ago

Text

Writemas Day Twenty!

WOWIE. this event has gone by so fast! it’s been so fun raaaaaah I’m gonna miss this lil thing 💔

anyways, here are today’s prompts!

and the ones I used were:

setting: pub

the sweetness of chocolate

and that’s it! this is a continuation of yesterday’s writemas, so if you’d like… here it is wink wink nudge nudge >:]

tried to switch POVs and idk if it worked but ah well :/

———

“Felix, wait!” Kaiden called, clumsily slipping off her skates and slipping into her boots.

Her friend was fast, speeding from bridge to bridge, down ladder to ladder. She didn’t understand why she was intent on getting to him—all she knew was that he was scared, and while chasing him probably didn’t help, leaving someone to their emotions was even worse. She’d know.

Sprinting through a frost-covered city was hard. Way harder than Kaiden thought it would be. But, as he finally slowed down, she let herself slow as well. Trading speed for stealth, she trailed Felix, hiding in random locations when he looked behind.

Several minutes passed, and she had no idea where they had ended up. Felix would definitely know, though, so it wasn’t a problem.

~~~

‘Where even am I?’ he wondered.

He didn’t think Kaiden would follow him for long, what with her finally seeing his wings, the most prominent mark of his fairy heritage. Most were uncomfortable with it, some were downright disgusted. She wouldn’t be any different.

He finally stopped walking, slipping into what looked like a pub. Not bothering with re-glamouring anything, he took a seat at the back of the establishment. He put his head in his hands, choosing to fold his wings—they were still visible, but less so—and pray to the stars that Kaiden hadn’t followed him. The city wasn’t safe, after all, especially for someone who didn’t know their way around it yet.

‘But even if she did trail me, who am I to judge?’ he thought. ‘I blindly ran here first, for gods’s sake!’

If she was in danger now because of his carelessness, then… the thought terrified him even more than Kaiden’s possible negative opinion. He bolted back up and headed to the door.

He was met with a familiar face, one creased with worry and only slightly winded from the impromptu marathon.

~~~

Kaiden quickly took his arms and shook him a bit. “What the stars were you thinking?!” Her eyes were bright gold now, she could tell. No point in hiding them. Between the unfamiliar place and her missing friend, she assumed she had a good enough reason to be worried.

Felix, completely stunned, didn’t say a word. His pale grey eyes darted from left to right, and Kaiden noticed that markings under them were starting to emerge.

“What are you doing?” she asked softly, trying to calm herself and Felix down. Loosening her grip, she let her hands rest on his shoulders.

“I, uh…”

Kaiden nodded slowly.

“Well… it’s a long story.”

“… A long story.”

“Yes…?”

Kaiden looked at Felix for a moment longer, then she sighed and pulled him back into the pub.

“Sit.”

He sat. So did she.

“Talk. We’ve got time.”

So he did. And she listened.

~~~

“…That,” she concluded, sipping her mug of hot chocolate, “is a predicament.”

“You don’t say,” he agreed, shrinking deeper into his chair.

Kaiden observed him, as she did so many times before, but obviously he was quite different than what she was used to. For starters, his eyes were grey, where before they were a murky brown. Framing them were small butterfly shaped markings, which matched his shimmering wings.

Of all the things she expected Felix to be—a merchant’s son, maybe, or a circus performer—an esteemed nobleman was not it. Well, maybe ‘esteemed’ was a stretch, but it still stunned her.

She felt a pang of sadness when she realized Felix didn’t trust her enough to be his real self near her, but she understood why he hid himself under layers of glamour. She’d have snuck out of the house all the time if her mother was as overbearing as Lady BonaDea. At least he hadn’t changed himself too much—he still looked like himself, but more… Fae.

“What… what are you going to do about it?”

She took another sip of her drink, the sweetness of the chocolate contrasting the tense atmosphere. “Hm?”

“What are you going to do? Turn me in?” Felix asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Kaiden nearly choked on her hot chocolate. Coughing, she asked, “Now, why would I do that?”

Felix blinked. “Because… you could get paid a lot for it…?”

“You think I value a few coins over your trust?”

Felix shrank a little more. “No…”

“You think I’d condemn you to being a prisoner in your own home?”

He somehow shrank even more. “No.”

“Then why would you think I’d ‘do something about it’?”

He was silent at this.

~~~

Felix flinched a little as she stood, and kept his eyes on her as she moved around the table to him. If she was lying, well, she’d soon regret it. She took his hand, gently, and led him outside of the pub.

The icy air still bit at the pair, but the snow had long since stopped falling. His mind whirled. What if she was lying? What if she was heading to find a Guard and report the situation? She was obligated by law to do so, if Felix remembered his studies correctly. He had planned for this, of course, but the mere thought of having to hurt a friend made his head spin and his heart twist.

His thoughts trailed off as he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, pulling him a bit closer. He stopped walking, as did she.

Resting her head on his, Kaiden murmured, “You’re my friend, Felix. I’m not going to do that to you.”

Felix felt tears prick the back of his eyes, and he nodded slightly. She squeezed a little tighter, but not tight enough to even pinch his top wings. They stayed like that for a bit, not minding the strange looks from passersby.

The moment ended much too soon for Felix’s liking. She pulled her head back up and said, “Now let’s get home, yeah? Or back to Liaba? Lead the way.”

‘Shit.’ He had forgotten about that. “…I have no idea where we are.”

“What.”

———

GUYS THEYRE SO 💥✨💕💥🥰💥‼️✨💥😭💕✨‼️‼️‼️ DO YOU GET ME????

RAHHHH

General Writing Taglist! Lemme know if you’d like on via dm!

@bunnymermaidwrites @abiteofhoney @aalinaaaaaa @vesanal @cepheusgalaxy

@fifis-corner @urnumber1star @thebookishkiwi @sunflowerrosy @theink-stainedfolk

@threedaysgross @mundanemoongirl @satohqbanana @bamber344 @imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese

@viridis-icithus @cc-writes-stuff @anothersummerofsleep @sharkblizzardblogs

@verdant-mainframe @kittrrrr @ruvastuon @agirlandherquill (<- the host!) @annothersummerofsleep

@nczaversnick @zerotothex @oliolioxenfreewrites

yay I hope yall enjoyed :>

#o(sea’s)#sea’s story 1 #osea: kaiden #osea: felix #writemas #writeblr

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voidspiraling · 3 days ago

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What do you think about the Red pupils in alien stage? Because when I first see them I think it’s just an Ivan trait, but in a few shots, Till has them too. Specifically when it’s related to Ivan. I would think it’s stress because of the fact he was stressed when Luka was manipulating him, but there’s also the Metor shower scene where he’s the happiest we’ve seen him at. Also! Thoughts on the comic where Till says “Because of you Mizi won’t play with me anymore?” And Ivan says that it wasn’t Mizi playing with him it was him? Like, what do you think that comic could mean on both their relationship + how Till loves Mizi? Cuz I think it’s interesting that he’s in love with her because of her smile and her presence but mistakes Ivan for her

Hiiii Srry for the late reply I had finals weeks and was dying. Thank you so much for your ask I’m happy to talk abt red pupils and the comic!

Red eyes are super interesting in IvanTill.

This is the first shot from R3 we get of baby Ivan, and his eyes naturally have the red dot in them. Usually they’re a darker color so his eyes look black most of the time.

So I disagree with the theory that the aliens experimented on Ivan’s eyes to turn them red. His eyes have always been red, you just don’t notice it unless you boost the saturation and contrast. Or have super strong eyes ig. HOWEVER.

Ivan’s eyes get redder when he feels strong emotions. This is the comic showing his final thoughts, here he is likely feeling jealous that Sua was able to be in a mutually requited love with Mizi. It’s almost like his entire world is turned upside down. What do you mean the girl who is so similar to me is able to find happiness? Why couldn’t I? Why is she so happy and I’m so miserable when we’re both the same? So we can associate bright red eyes with intense feelings. Just like how the color bright red can mean intense love but also extreme danger. Now let’s talk about when Till’s eyes are red.

The first time in canon is the infamous meteor shower scene. It’s one of the happiest times we see him. In this moment I think the red pupils represent the happiness and love he feels for Ivan. I’ve talked abt the red sky before but I’ll briefly say that this bright sky is a pivotal moment in both of their lives. It’s where their love was almost fully realized (in my delusional eyes) before being ripped to pieces. Remember red means love but it also means danger. So when Till’s eyes are red it means he’s feeling an intense emotion related to Ivan, bc Ivan naturally has red eyes. In this scene it’s probably love that he is feeling intensely.

Now let’s look at R6 Till, his eyes are red here too but it’s not out of happiness but of heartbreak. I wanted to talk abt this later so I’ll keep this short. But isn’t it strange that Till was so defeated after Mizi disappeared. She wasn’t even confirmed dead but he was already at his lowest. I think the real reason he stopped singing wasn’t just bc he was sad abt Mizi, but bc he didn’t want to win against Ivan. Losing his idol made him realize that the only person he has left is Ivan. It’s like a reality check for him. (Honestly if Mizi somehow won R5 I feel like he’d still throw the match but I’ll explain my delusions separately.) Anyways in this moment right before Ivan kisses him, he is probably shocked at seeing Ivan. Remember Till doesn’t realize that Ivan loves him, he probably attributes Ivan’s weirdness around him as something he does out of hate rather than him trying to get the attention of his crush. So seeing him also throw the mic away and stand so close to him was surprising but also comforting in a sense. At least the last face he sees will be Ivan.

Now onto R7, this is I think the brightest red we see in Till’s eyes. I think this is bc his world just ended hours ago (however long the time between rounds is idk rlly all I know is that R6 and R7 happened the same day.) All the ppl he grew up with died, he doesn’t know what happened to Mizi, and he’s up against the Ruler of the Stage. But here his eyes are red when Luka impersonates Ivan. Again his red eyes likely represent the deep heartbreak and sadness he feels about Ivan. After Ivan’s sacrifice and kiss Till has to re-contextualize everything Ivan has done. I think also it forced him to confront the red sky that haunted him (ie: missed chance at freedom, finding happiness with Ivan) there was a lot of red scenes and red lights during R7 that reinforces this idea.

Overall red eyes are Ivan’s signature, but it’s easy to miss bc it blends with the black of his eyes. Ivan also wears a lot of black you can barely see any red on him. But Till who cares a lot more abt Ivan than he’s willing to admit, notices the red in his eyes. So when Till’s eyes turn red it means what he’s feeling is connected is related to Ivan. We don’t see Till’s turn red when thinking abt Mizi.

There is one exception however.

It’s in R2. Now this could just be thematic, Till just killed an alien living in his guitar. HOWEVER let’s pretend it’s more than that. Red eyes represent Ivan bc he naturally has red pupils. BUT the color red represents Till. He’s got bright red pants, dark red gloves, blood red on his pants and he’s seen cherishing and holding red flowers.

Methinks Red is Till’s signature color bc Till likes the color of Ivan’s eyes. (And if you think abt it pink is just a lighter shade of red hehehe…)

To answer your question red eyes are an Ivan thing bc he was born with red eyes. But red eyes on Till means he’s looking at Ivan meaningfully, acknowledging his own feelings for Ivan it could be positive feelings or negative feelings. But considering that Till’s eyes turned red from being depressed over Ivan, I think Till has mostly positive feelings for Ivan.

Now part 2!

This comic is basically Till threatening (failing to threaten rlly I mean look at Ivan’s face XD) to punch Ivan in the bathroom bc he believes Ivan was somehow the reason Mizi wouldn’t play with him. You can find the translation on Twitter by @WhataFruit.

Ivan’s response was basically what the hell are you on Mizi never played with you in the first place. Then the small text is him saying I was the one who played with you.

On Till’s side the real reason Mizi doesn’t play with Till, is bc she thinks Till doesn’t like her. She likes how artistic he is, and thinks his piercings suit him. But she sees him awkward and uncomfortable around her and assumes it’s bc he doesn’t like her. She wants to be friends with Till but due to Till’s avoidant tendencies they’re not close.

He blames Ivan for this bc he doesn’t have anyone else to blame. He’s May not even be aware that he’s avoiding ppl like this. Ivan was just a jerk to him anyways so it’s easy to blame him if something he doesn’t like happens to him. This is the kid that steals his pencils it wouldn’t be too surprising if Ivan said something weird abt Till to Mizi.

Another thing is that he talks abt Ivan wanting revenge for hitting them when they were younger. This could be bc Till likely feels guilty abt hitting Ivan. When they grow older, yeah Till still gets pissed at Ivan, but he doesn’t hit him anymore. In fact he tries to ignore him like in the R6 flashback when Ivan pulls at his wound on his cheek. It’s like when you tell a little girl to stop reacting when a boy is mean to her bc he likes her (not that it ever stops the boy from being abusive but whatever). So I think this is how Till sees Ivan’s feelings towards him. He’s doing weird stuff cuz he’s mad at me/hates me for hitting him when we were younger. It could also be he feels guilty for throwing away his only chance at freedom with Ivan. Cuz it wasn’t just his freedom he gave up it was also Ivan’s freedom that was lost. It wasn’t Till’s responsibility or anything I’m not blaming him for Ivan’s choices. But as a result of Till’s actions both him and Ivan are trapped as pets again. Till blaming himself for Ivan coming back could be why he thinks Ivan only has negative feelings for him. And why he doesn’t attack Ivan after Ivan provoked him, he probably thinks he deserves Ivan tormenting him.

Now let’s talk abt Ivan’s response. He’s blunt as always with no tact when he says Mizi never played with you in the first place. But the smaller text is him saying I’m the one who plays with you.

From this the smaller text makes me think abt how Ivan is only truly honest when Till isn’t awake or looking at him.

In R6 Ivan is showing comfort and care to Till after he had been forced to sing for the aliens (idk if that scene has actual SA or if they just drugged him and hit him but regardless Till is suffering here). There is no way to misconstrue Ivan’s action as anything but care here. He unlocks Till’s collar and nuzzles his gently the way Till nuzzles flowers. He could’ve kissed Till here, could’ve unbuttoned his shirt or pinch his face etc. But the only thing he does is gently comfort Till.

I think this shows how Ivan wants to be kind and cherish Till. But something holds him back from doing it when Till can receive that care properly. It doesn’t matter how much you love give someone if the other person never receives it in a way they understand. It’s probably bc for Ivan who has been treated as a product/investment he doesn’t have a lot of self-worth. He’s so used to just fulfilling everyone’s expectations of him that he lost his individuality. Loving Till doesn’t fit inside everyone’s expectations of him, not even Till’s. So he only does what he wants when no one is aware of it, when he’s by himself. In the student interview he allots a lot of time for “private time” this could be bc that’s the only reprieve he gets from constantly acting like the perfect pet for the aliens. And with the low self worth and calling his feelings “shallow” he like Till also believes he’s not worthy of affection.

He acts like a jerk to Till partly out of immaturity, anger at Till for not leaving with him and bc if he acts like this he can maximize the time he spent with Till. If he acted like Mizi, gentle and kind, he assumes Till would run away like he does with Mizi. Remember Till grew up being taken away from his mom and being abused by Urak. As a defense mechanism he assumes that violence is normal and avoids the unknown kindness others have for him. As an avoidant person myself, when you’re not used to ppl being unconditional kind, it is VERY uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough that we shy away from it. So that’s why Ivan fulfills Till’s expectation of him being a jerk when he’s awake. But when Till isn’t looking at him or when Ivan’s abt to die he shows pure love towards Till.

Look at the face, that’s the look of someone in love. And one of the few times we see him wearing a collar. It’s bright green when looking at Till, Ivan you have so much affection how can you call it shallow 🥲 How many ppl could give up their chance at freedom just for the person they love? (This is why I can’t get behind ppl who think Ivan would cage Till or trap him by his side. Ivan literally respected Till’s choice not to leave their hell and even stayed with him and loved him the entire time they were together ;-;)

Also abt the last part I’m unclear where exactly Till mistook Ivan for Mizi? From my understanding I see Till loving Mizi as a performance and I think Vivinos said Till saw Mizi as an idol. Like how most ppl love idols, we only love the fantasy version we come up with of them. Very rarely do we see the messy human side to them. And even tho we may obsess over them and feel intense love for our fav idol. Eventually we turn off the screen and go through with our day. That’s how I see Till loving Mizi.

I mean whenever Ivan is watching Till, Till is mostly drawing, practicing/composing music or just by himself. There’s not really a scene of Ivan watching Till look at Mizi. It could just be that bc it’s Ivan’s pov we only see Till and no one else. But we also know that Ivan has spent a lot of time with Till in the garden, he’s our only insight into what Till is actually like. So I think Till loves Mizi from afar bc he unconsciously doesn’t want to actually get to know her and ruin his image of her. Even after seeing her attack Luka in R5 he still hallucinates her as a gentle almost angelic figure.

I mean I think Till has always loved Ivan but that’s just bc I’m delusional lol.

Anyways thank you so much for the ask! Sorry for the lateness and the nonsensical yapping. My brain is kinda fried rn from all the tests but I might come back and re-analyze the comic.

#alien stage #alnst ivan #alnst till #alnst #ivantill #ask me anything #alnst mizi

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